


Will Graham's Wondrous Wings

by julesver



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Daddy Kink, Felching, First Time, Fluff, Food, Hannibal Lecter Cooks, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Hannibal Lecter, M/M, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Rimming, Romance, Rough Sex, Smitten Hannibal Lecter, Smut, Spanking, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-01-12 18:16:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 81,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesver/pseuds/julesver
Summary: Will Graham was no stranger to various mental ailments, but one day he came home with a headache that he just couldn’t shake off. Sensing an opportunity to influence him further, Hannibal came and volunteered to nurse him back to health. Instead of a pliant patient ripe for manipulation, the good doctor was suddenly faced with an anatomical anomaly of fantastical proportions.Will Graham just sprouted wings, and they’re magnificent to behold.





	1. Labour Pain

 

Check out the [wonderful art](https://imgur.com/gallery/XgRR3zY) [Seasick Yet Still Docked (TomatoLullaby31)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomatoLullaby31/pseuds/Seasick%20Yet%20Still%20Docked) made for the story!

 

 

 

 

***

 

Witnessing Elliot Buddish horrific body brought images of hell that followed Will to his dreams. Sleep evaded him, and within a week he was nursing a headache that deafen even the sound of Jack’s incessant demands.

 

Will walked through the hall of the academy like a living corpse, face gaunt with dark circles, grunting in lieu of speaking. By the end of the week, his students learned to only ask him yes or no questions. By the end of the month, his TA pitied him enough to act as his bodyguard and shooed any eager brown nosers away.

 

On a sunny Friday morning, searing pain deep within his spine woke Will from his shallow slumber. His head cracked with thunderous pain and his skin flashed with alternating chills and fever. It was then that Will finally considered the possibility that he might be sick.

 

“Stay home Will.” Jack’s disappointed voice crackled through the receiver. “You’re no help at all like this.”

 

 _‘Gee. Thanks for the concern Jack.’_ Will thought as the line went dead. If he didn’t grew up with such a neglectful father, Will would’ve felt more indignant about Jack’s professional disinterest. He didn’t mind it though. An honest dismissal is much preferable than the uncomfortable attention that a fake concern can bring.

 

He continued on settling his various affairs for the day; calling Alana to sub in for his classes, dumping the bulk of his grading to his angel of a TA, and finally pleading with the nearest Chinese restaurant to deliver him chicken soup, negotiating an exorbitant delivery fee so they might consider delivering him food.

 

When he scrolled to Hannibal’s name in his contacts, Will’s head was already spinning from ten minutes of focused concentration and excess socialization. The pain on his spine has spread up to his shoulders, and he considered giving up and finally calling 911.

 

Instead, he called his psychiatrist and left a polite message at his voicemail. If he was going to die from this freak fever, then the least he could no is not leave Hannibal alone and waiting. That would be unspeakably rude of him to do.

 

Will only managed to dial 9 and 1 before succumbing to the sheer pain in his head and back.

**

 

After finishing his last appointment and stopping by his home to garnish the dinner stewing in his slow cooker, Hannibal drove out to Wolf Trap with a generous serving of Anita Crane shank soup and his psychic driving kit sitting on the backseat of his Bentley.

 

He’s gotten quite fond of feeding Will after their intense sessions. There is a certain vulnerability in watching a man so distrusting consume something taboo and praising him after each mouthful. In fact, there were many things that Hannibal had come to enjoy from Will Graham, so much so that he considered extending their relationship beyond the simple borders of friendship.

 

Though the news of Will’s sudden bouts of illness forced Hannibal to change his meticulously planned schedule, the doctor was eager to see the brewing fever he predicted finally blooming into it’s mature sweetness. It made him thrum his fingers in giddy anticipation, a feeling he thought he had outgrown with other childish things. Hannibal just couldn’t wait to see Will’s magnificent mind deteriorate and elevate into it’s beautifully tragic end.

 

His only regret was he wouldn’t be able to eat Will’s brain after the man expire. Sure, Will would’ve been perfumed beautifully, but even his curiosity wouldn’t tempt the good doctor to consume an unhealthy man.

 

As he mussed on the spices needed to replicate the scent of Will’s encephalitis, Hannibal arrived on his Wolf Trap property and promptly walked up to the door bearing gifts of food, flowers, and manipulation.

 

Two things caught his attention; the eerie absence of barking canines as well as a

paper bag from a Chinese takeout riddled with ants and rodents. The sight alone made Hannibal frown in distaste. Will’s home may not be the ideal candidate for the cover of Architectural Digest, but the man was not inherently messy or unclean. Leaving trash outside where the wildlife might infest them was not something he would do.

 

A cursory glance at his watch revealed that it’s almost nine o’clock. The damp receipt taped to the bag showed that the order was placed at ten in the morning. Was the man so sick that not even hunger could rouse him from his bed?

 

Hannibal knocked on the door and called for Will. When the man did not answer, curiosity drove him to cross the threshold of Will’s home, letting both shadows and sweetness envelop him completely.

 

The scent was so intense that Hannibal almost couldn’t make out the permanent stench of dog that clung into the very plaster of the house. Out of the corner of his eyes Hannibal spied the pack huddled against the far end of the wall, their faces turned meekly away as they silently cowered in fear.

 

On the very opposite of the darkened room Will’s silhouette rose and fall with barely audible gasps. His thin blanket draped over his slender body, his sweat making it clung to the dips and valley of his pleasing figure.

 

It was a delicious sight, even under the sparse light of the moon, and it stirred Hannibal’s loin and filled him with a taste of something transcendent.

 

“There you are.” The doctor sighed, approaching the man after divesting himself of his jacket and gifts. With tentative steps Hannibal approached the bed, dropping his guard completely when he learned that Will was quite unconscious.

 

With a gentleness he did not need to fake, Hannibal placed his hand on Will’s back and caressed circles to rouse him up. “Wake up Will.” He gently urged, but the man remained dead to the world, and it pleased Hannibal beyond belief.

 

It was such a tempting sight to see such beauty lay there all vulnerable and weak. Hannibal had to remind himself to behave. It wouldn’t be right to consume the man while he’s unconscious like this, figuratively or otherwise.

 

So instead Hannibal settled on scenting the man, brushing aside the sweaty hair on his nape so he could savor his scent directly. “Exquisite.” he murmured, his mouth watering as he filled himself with Will’s heady aroma.

 

Hannibal couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard.

 

Lost in the exquisiteness of Will’s prone figure and intimate scent, Hannibal inched closer until he was all but straddling the man.

 

There was this intense desire for him to peel the very fabric that dared to hide his prize away from him. Hannibal longed to run his eyes, then his hand, his tongue, and finally his blade across the planes of Will’s body. He wanted to savor him until he could recall his taste from memory alone. He longed to capture his pleasure sounds and eternalize his anguished terrors. Hannibal wanted, _no,_ he needed to consume the man beyond any rational thoughts or consideration.

 

 _‘Then why don’t you?’_ A mischievous little voice taunted him, and being the prideful devil that he was, Hannibal slid the blanket off and ran his hand just beneath Will’s damp shirt.

 

His eager exploration was immediately halted when he smelled blood and found two black marks seeping from where Will’s shoulder blade was supposed to be. Enraged at the thought that someone might’ve left their mark before he could, Hannibal all but ripped Will’s shirt apart and was immediately stunned at the sight of his mangled back.

 

Two angular protrusions erupted out of Will’s shoulder blades like black stone temples erected for brutal gods of old. The skin around it was swollen and bruised beautifully, weeping trails of blood and plasma from the puncture wound that was obviously made from _inside_.

 

Hannibal dropped the tattered remains of Will’s shirt and took out his phone, shinning the light over the two curious anomaly.

 

“Oh…” He laughed in wondrous disbelief. “I can never truly predict you, can I, my dear Will?”

 

 

**


	2. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will laboured to free his wings under Hannibal's care

After depositing the sickly man onto his bed, Hannibal moved with practiced efficiency and fetched his emergency surgical kit. Before long, a standard doctor bag multiplied into a tray full of scalpels, a jar bursting with gauze, and an antique basin filled with hot steaming water.

 

Despite having enough supplies to run a relief tent in Africa, Hannibal still felt woefully unprepared, helpless, even. They were not emotions that he’s familiar with, and no matter how hard he tried, no amount distance and forced detachment could shield Hannibal away from Will’s radiating anguish.

 

 _‘Strange.’_ He thought quietly, squashing the little pocket of dread forming in his stomach. He’s never empathized this deeply with other people before, but then again other people were pigs, and Will was something else entirely. The two growing lump undulating above his scapula was enough evidence of that.

 

Logic tells him that this was not something either science or medicine can explain, but his instinct to preserve beauty moved him beyond feelings of inadequacy or doubt. There was something miraculous happening, and he will not stand idly by and let beauty perish into nothing.

 

A strangled moan dragged Hannibal’s attention back to the shivering man on his bed. On lonely nights and randy mornings, Hannibal often imagined Will on his bed like this, sweaty, gasping, and unraveled by both pain and pleasure. The real sight was far lovelier than anything his imagination could conjure up, and Hannibal wished he could abandon everything in life just so he could dedicate his remaining breath to capturing this beauty hidden between his expensive sheets.

 

Alas, the two sharp protrusion on Will’s back contracted and moved with renewed vigor and violence. Muscles and bones began to separate from his skin, forcing a sickening crack from deep within his chest.

 

“God!” Will arched up, eyes wide open and as black as ink. The only color visible was the two rings of his blue irises, burning bright and shimmering with life.

 

Hannibal leaned in and caressed the man’s sweat laden hair, committing the very last hues of his iris to memory. “Will.” He called for the man, but his eyes remained trained to the heavens, unseeing of any earthly things, for he was gazing at the very god that has abandoned him.

 

With a great big sigh Will fell onto the bed and grasped for pillows, sheets; anything that could help him endure this torture. Cold clammy hands found Hannibal’s, and they clutched to him with the same desperation that Misca had on her very last day on earth.

 

Memories of her pain rushed back and stung Hannibal anew, but even that pales in comparison to the anguish of Will’s suffering.

 

“It’s okay, my dear.” Hannibal murmured, unsure of whom he was talking to. “I will be right here until the end.”

 

Blue-rimmed eyes turned to him, blinking sedately like an unsure monster considering another’s approach. Before pallid lips could open and speak, the brief second of lucidity was smothered away by a wave of pain, and Will was once again an animal, wild and unseeing.

 

It was so terribly lovely to behold.

 

***

 

Will fell in and out of consciousness, deaf and blind to everything but the searing pain bubbling deep in his bones. It burned the heat away from his body, leaving him shivering and sweating, neither hot nor cold nor temperate in any shape or form.

 

No other pain could compare to the pressure in his head and back. There was a profound cramp in his muscles and sharp pain as his ribcage began to dislocate from his spine, one rib at a time, making way as something _alive_ unfurled from his marrow and burst through his back.

 

“Breathe.”

“You’re doing marvelous.”

“Just like that

“One more push.”

“Good, Will. Very good.”

 

Those words of comforts did nothing to curb the pain, but the sight of Hannibal’s sitting beside him brought a twinkling of relief in his more lucid moments. ‘ _You’re here? You’re here for me?’_ Will thought, eternally grateful that he had a wonderful friend like Dr. Lecter.

 

Before he could give voice to that sentiment, something inside him ripped and splattered, encasing his body with the pain of a thousand swords. Suddenly he was the wound man, screaming in terror as the coroner steals away the art from his body to bag as evidence. He was Cassie Boyle, a gift, gored and split for ravens to feast upon. He was Elliot Buddish,-

 

“Oh no, dear Will. You are nothing like that pretender.” Hannibal purred, caressing his spine with blood stained fingers. Will sobbed as the doctor dug deep within his flesh and touched his still beating heart.

 

‘ _No. Don’t. No body has ever touched that before.’_ Will sobbed.

 

 

The doctor smiled and pulled away, licking his fingers. “Now push.” He softly urged, and Will could do nothing but obey.

 

Pain ripped along the lines of his back, followed by a sore sense of relief. ‘ _I did it.’_ Will thought proudly before slowly succumbing to sleep.

 

“Beautiful…” Hannibal murmured, and as battered and bloody as he was, the awe and wonder in his voice made Will want to believe him.

 

 

**

 

A gentle tugging on his -..arm, was it? But his arm is at his side. Strange- roused Will from his slumber.

 

“Hann..?” He mumbled into newly laundered sheets, turning towards the figure sitting by his side. He felt a part of his body flutter in protest, but they quickly settled under Hannibal’s cool hand and gentle brushing.

 

“Rest, Will.” He said as he sat on an ornate chair, using brushing away flakes of blood from a blanket of feathers on his lap. They curled around him like a small animal, pulsing with life and energy, happy to be held.

 

‘ _You have a very strange dog Dr. Lecter.’_ Will wanted to say, but he was quickly lulled back to sleep as Hannibal’s gentle stroking continued.

 

*

 

It felt like an eternity had passed in a blink of an eye. An unfamiliar room greeted Will when he awoke, one too rich and decadent to be anywhere near his humble Wolf trap neighborhood. The walls were decorated in warm oxblood and dark coal tones, understatedly masculine if it were not for the various flowers decorating each empty table.

 

Will blinked and automatically reached for his phone and glasses, none of which was anywhere nearby his vicinity. Instead he found his psychiatrist, sitting quietly with a small book in his hand, looking disheveled and tired but still as elegant as ever.

 

“You’re finally awake.” Hannibal smiled, closing his book and putting it aside so he can busy his hands Will instead. “How are you feeling Will? Any pain? Nausea?” he asked, turning Will’s chin so he could observe him more closely.

 

Slightly overwhelmed at overly familiar contact, Will jerked away from the man and stumbled off the bed and onto the marble floor. “Careful.” Hannibal narrowed his eyes, rushing over to catch him before he could collapse on the floor “Best to avoid any sudden movement. Don’t want to hurt your new wings now, do we?”

 

“My… wings?” Will glared, angry that the doctor would try and make fun of him at a time like this. Yet when he looked up, he found no malicious laughter or petty jeering reflected in his ever-calm countenance, only a staggering amount of joy and adoration that made him look away in embarrassment. “Please don’t mock me doctor. I might’ve been out for a couple of days, but I still have my wits about me.”

 

“Mock you?” Hannibal all but gasped. “I would never, Will.” Hannibal said with an earnestness so genuine it was enough to make Will feel guilty. “Look.” He said, guiding the confused man towards his walk-in closet.

 

A full-length mirror glinted in the dark, beckoning them to come close. With an elegant pull of a switch, the room lit up with a warm glow, revealing the two lumbering shadows that followed them from the bed.

 

“Oh…” Will breathed in wonder, taking one tentative step after another until he was nose to nose with his own reflection.

 

Two massive white wings rose up behind him, thick and lush with feathers as long as his forearms. On the knuckles and ends of those wings were bony protrusions, sharpened like ivory daggers and glinting dangerously in the light.

 

“My god…” Will muttered, turning rapidly to see where his new limbs met his body. The tips of his wings brushed gently against Hannibal’s rows of suit, the texture of the expensive fabric sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. “Its…” He gaped, at a loss for words as he caressed the newly healed divot where pulsing feathers connects to the flesh of his back. “Its…”

 

“-a miracle.” Hannibal smiled, placing a warm comforting hand on his trembling shoulders. The solid touch made him realized just how exhausted he was, and without much thought Will fell forward onto Hannibal’s sturdy chest.

 

“What the hell am I turning into, Doctor?” he sighed, mind already filling with salacious headlines written by a certain red haired reporter. Hannibal just chuckled and stroked his face.

 

“You’re becoming yourself Will, and you are magnificent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	3. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will share a meal together

 

“You can see them too, right?” Will asked for the umpteenth time that day, grabbing Hannibal’s wrist as he deposited yet another sumptuously plated food onto the burgeoning table.

 

“Yes Will.” Hannibal patiently answered once more. “I see them as clearly as I see everything in this room.”

 

“So I’m not losing my mind?”

 

“No, but there is a possibility that you might still be dreaming. Have you tried pinching yourself?” The man asked, subtly teasing his guest with a frustratingly charming smile.

 

“Ha. Ha.” Will retorted back, though his ire served to draw more amusement from the doctor. When Hannibal disappeared back into the kitchen, Will stood up and began pacing nervously up and down, mindful to tuck his wings close to his body so he wont scratch and knock around the Doctor’s many decors.

 

 _‘Wings’_ That simple word seemed too fanciful for someone like him. They’re meant to describe angels and birds, fragile graceful things that were undoubtedly aren’t meant for someone that was both pathologically antisocial and borderline autistic.

 

Yet there they were, two lumbering spirits that has manifested into his back. The peered over his shoulder like curious puppies, impossible to ignore and thrumming with the same playful energy.

 

Though no longer sore, the two limbs were stiff and substantial. They’re almost a meter wide when stretched from wingtip to body, yet not so unwieldy that they tip him when he walked. As he moved around, Will found the wings becoming lighter, until they are hovering against their weight, aspiring to break even the very laws of physic itself.

 

As if Will needed any other reason to be different.

 

Still, as strange as their arrival was, Will found it hard for himself to hate them. They were truly magnificent things, an honest to god pair of wings, with plush white feathers that faded into dusty charcoal near his quills.

 

‘ _Quills.’_ The word made him snort. If one would attribute such anatomy to him then he’d imagine himself a hedgehog, small and unsociable with a prickly attitude only few can penetrate. Pure white feathers seemed too refined for someone like him, for the things that run through his minds were far too devilish for angles to contemplate.

 

Nevertheless, as he stood in Dr. Lecter’s beautifully decorated, Will couldn’t help but feel like he belonged there. Rich fabric, baroque paintings, and antique moldings, those things were beyond him, but skulls, horns, and fangs? They were stark reminder of one’s primal nature, and Will’s own instinct urged him to nest and make his home there.

 

 _‘Don’t be ridiculous.’_ Will almost blushed, embarrassed that he could even think about the term nesting. ‘ _Just because he opened his home doesn’t give you the right gather sticks and cuddle down in it.’_

Yet it was difficult to disconnect the idea of home from the safe sanctuary of Hannibal’s presence.

 

“Will.” Hannibal’s voice gently coaxed him out of his musings. “ Please, come sit down and eat.” The doctor said, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling out a chair for him. Will shivered when his warm hand grazed his wings, forcing them to flatten completely against his back. “My apologies, did I hurt you?” Hannibal asked, his handsome face coming dangerously close to Will’s.

 

The man all but leaped aside. “Just s..sensitive.” Will mumbled gruffly, hoping that Hannibal wouldn’t push the issue further. He’s never been great with touches and eye contact, but Will avoid Hannibal’s not because they’re unpleasant, but because they bring him far too much pleasure to be appropriate.

 

“What a relief. I wouldn’t want to cause you anymore pain.” Hannibal smiled, looking at him in such a way that makes Will want to flutter about like a wayward chick.

 

Ever the gracious host, Hannibal led him to the table and pulled out a chair, chivalry etched to his very marrow. Will let the man pamper and fuss over him needlessly. A considerate question here, a flourish of napkin there, a warm grounding touch. If he didn’t just went through something unrealistically traumatic then Will would’ve thought that the Doctor was trying to woo him.

 

“Thank you.” He said awkwardly as Hannibal took his seat. “-for checking up on me. And staying with me while I… Well,” he frowned, failing to find the word to explain what he just went through. His wings fluttered about, as agitated as he was. Embarrassed, Will bit his lips and leaned back, squishing the two unruly appendages against the backrest. They’re like dog tails, showing his emotions out right into the world.

 

 _‘Oh, that’s just great.’_ Will scowled into his lap, feeling a little less secure in his new body and far to embarrassed to meet Hannibal’s eyes. “Sorry! I just- fuck.” He cursed when he realized that he’s left the doctor waiting as he fumbled with his words. “Just thank you, Hannibal. You’re a good friend.”

 

There was a soft intake of breath, far to subtle for most people to notice, but it drew Will’s attention up as he sensed the air between changing into something cloyingly sweet and warm. Hannibal leaned onto his elbows, forgetting his manners all together as his body naturally seeked for Will’s. His sharp countenance soften into something vulnerable and wistful, and Will wished he could spend the rest of his life teasing out such expressions from the carefully guarded man.

 

“I do not lack for friendly company nor for acquaintances, but as time goes by, I found that I have but only a few friends, if any.“ The man quietly admitted with a chuckle. “How lucky to be counted amongst yours, my dear Will.” He said, caressing the stem of his wine glass, wishing it was Will’s hand.

 

Warmth spread through Will’s stomach, filling it with the same fluttering wisps that his own wings mirrored. “Likewise.” He muttered, praying that the flush on his face could be blamed on the wine he barely sipped.

 

If Hannibal noticed the blush then he was polite enough to pretend otherwise. It’s bad enough that Will was sitting there with only his pants on, bare chested like a savage while Hannibal was in his full suit regalia. He was not ready to be further humiliated with these growing feelings for the man he just declared his friendship with.

 

So instead Will leaned in and made a show of appreciating the feast laid out on the table, artfully decorated and sumptuous even to the eyes.

 

“Everything looks so amazing.” Will said, finding no reason to feign his appreciation for the man’s culinary skill. “Although I feel like I’ve walked into one of your dinner parties and scared everyone away. These are far too much food for us two Hannibal.”

 

“Hm, is it?” The man asked, scanning up and down the rows of plates with calculative eyes.

 

Platters full of ripe stone fruits and grapes overflowed onto a wide oak board full of cheese and charcuterie. A basket of warm bread nearby, stuffed full of artisanal crackers and glazed brioche. In the middle of it ware the three main courses; a roasted poultry nestled on a bed colorful vegetable, an octopus braised red and sticky with gleaming pearl onions, and a rustic skillet full of meat, tender and moist.

 

“Oh no, that’s what happened, isn’t it? You had plans for a dinner party and canceled it on my behalf. Now you’re trying to feed me to death as revenge.”

 

Hannibal laughed, caught of guard by the man’s sharp observation skills. That does sound like something he might do to repay someone’s rudeness. “Oh no, nothing as dramatic as that.” he chuckled. “ Though I confess that during your long period of covalence I found myself quite worried and idle. These are the result of that, and I’m afraid I must insist that you take responsibility.”

 

“Oh, so these are _my_ fault is it?”

 

“Yes. I was beside myself with worry. Imagine, witnessing the birth of something short of magic, and immediately realizing that it’s beauty and wonder can be destroyed by something as mundane as an infection, or low blood pressure.” Hannibal sighed, looking affronted by the thought. “It was quite unnerving.”

 

“I apologize Doctor. And here I thought you were worried about _me_.” Will teased, wings rising up in glee.

 

Hannibal looked to him, then to his wings, a flicker of awe hidden behind a prideful façade. When he returned to meet his eyes, the expression only intensified, seeping out like a badly muffled scream.

 

‘ _Beautiful.’_

 

“They are one and the same, Will.” Hannibal uttered gently, leaving Will to stew in the implication of his words.

 

He begins by cutting into a side of the roasted bird, cracking its crisp glassy skin and to reveal fragrant juicy flesh. “Roast duck with a salad of shaved root vegetables.” He placed the morsel onto Will’s plate. “Octopus à la plancha.” Another spoonful of brightly sauced meat was nestled next to the duck. “And finally, osso buco with yuzu gremolata.” A piece of tender meat found it’s way onto the plate. “Something from the land, sea, and air to celebrate this momentous occasion.”

 

Will all but scoffed, staring down bitterly at the inviting plate of food.

 

“These things should be mourned Hannibal, not celebrated. Just imagine the media circus when people finds out. Best case scenario, they’ll hound me from dawn to dusk, and the worst? A glass box to be studied and ogled. Oh! and don’t forget the religious nuts that would eventually come out of the woodworks.” Will laughed groaned, chugging his wine as if he could drown the inevitability of his bleak future.

 

A quiet hum was all that Hannibal responded with as he generously refilled Will’s wineglass.

 

“We will cross that bridge together when we get there.” Hannibal said quietly, though the thought of anybody else laying their eyes on his prize filled him with a quiet fury.

 

Will blinked and quietly thanked him, fixating on the word ‘together’, wondering if Hannibal will indeed remained by his side through the tumultuous time ahead.

_“How lucky to be counted amongst yours, my dear Will.”_

 

‘ _Unlucky that we’ve prematurely drawn the boundaries of our relationship.’_ He thought quietly.

 

“In the meantime, it would be a travesty to let this moment pass unobserved.” Hannibal said, maneuvering them away from topics too grim for the dinner table. “For centuries beauty has inspired art, poetry, and war. The least we can do is celebrate it when it graces us with it’s presence.”

 

Will blinked and sipped on his wine quietly. This was the second time tonight that Hannibal has called him beautiful, and Will cursed himself again for calling Hannibal his friend.

 

“I’m your guest, doctor, I will politely agree to whatever you think is best.”

 

“Then let us start eating shall we? Bon appétit.” He smiled, ego satisfied by the look of Will’s awed, albeit intimidated look.

 

The names of the food described alone were enough to make Will, a steak and potatoes guy, balk and shudder. Yet even with his low breeding and unrefined palate, Will knew that the least he could do is politely try the food Hannibal had labored so hard on.

 

He cuts through a juicy morsel of duck, the fat dripping to flavour the crisp mélange of colorful vegetables underneath, and the skin cracking delightfully under his teeth. “This is good.” Will hummed, impressed at how the man could make an animal as heavy as a duck taste so light and refreshing.

 

Next was the octopus, a wild looking thing with suckers the size of a dime. For an avid seafood fan, Will never did enjoyed cephalopods. His experience with them often ends with him spitting the rubbery things off the side of a boat. Yet despite his many reservations he trudged on and bite down onto that small piece of muscle.

 

The white meat lightly bounced off his teeth before yielding with a pliant crunch, filling his tongue with flavors of the sea, exploding and mingling beautifully with the sticky moreish sauce that he just can’t get enough of. “Delicious.” He gushed.

 

Finally he arrived on the meat, simple when compared to the rest of the dishes, but delicious looking nonetheless. The flesh gave away with the barest pressure from his knife, tender beyond belief. He lifted it up to his lips and savored the scent of spices and cinnamon, before closing his mouth around the elegant twine.

 

“Oh, the meat it’s…” Will blinked, taking another bite. “ Don’t get me wrong, everything else is delicious, but this-“ he took another bite and moaned, finishing the small. “What kind of meat is this?”

 

_‘The calves of a woman who walked too loudly in her heels.’_

 

“Beef. Slow roasted.” He smiled when Will served himself another piece, choosing a section with a bone still attached to the middle. “Try the marrow.” Hannibal suggested, passing a crust of sourdough bread sprinkled with bright yellow and green gremolata.

 

“Like this?” Will asked, using his knife to dig out the marrow and slather it onto the bread, waiting for Hannibal’s approval. Hannibal smiled and nodded, watching with rapt attention as Will devoured the whole piece and drug back for more.

 

Within a few minutes all of the osso buco was gone, and Hannibal couldn’t help but laugh at Will’s mournful expression. “I still have some in the over you want more.”

 

“Really? You wont mind me asking for seconds?”

 

“No Will. It’s the greatest compliment a cook can ever receive.” Hannibal smiled, surprised at how happy he felt seeing Will’s childish excitement.

 

As he waited for Hannibal to come back, Will settled on nibbling on a piece of cheese and crackers. They tasted flat compared to the savory delight of Hannibal’s dish, and the air, previously charged with energy, feels dead without the doctor. NO matter how much he wanted to follow the man, Will forced himself to wait, his wings twitching impatiently, as if they already missed the doctor’s presence.

 

Upon his return, Hannibal chuckled at the sight of Will fidgeting figure. “Apologies for the delay.” He said indulgently, answering the man’s accusing glare. A large silver took the space to Will’s right, piled high with the rest of the woman’s legs, warm, succulent, and artfully arrange for Will’s enjoyment.

 

“Indulge yourself, my dear. This is your celebration.” His hand gently found it’s way to the crook of Will’s wings, stroking it intimately as Will licked his lips and reached to serve himself.

 

They ate in companionable silence, the doctor abandoning his plate halfway, already full just from watching his guest devour bones after bones of tender meat. Hannibal was used to sycophantic praises and pedantic acclaims, but none of his guests has ever enjoyed his food with the honesty and vigor that Will showed.

 

The man ate like he was ravenous, ignoring everything else on the table unless Hannibal had served it to him. When his fingers began to slip from handle slicked with fat and sauce, the man abandoned his cutlery all together, digging into human flesh with his bare hands and sucking on the bones with probing tongue.

 

Every so often he would groan and roll his eyes up into his head. When they came back, they would show up black with a ring of blue fire within them. Slowly they’ll bleed back into whites, before a new frenzy would shook Will’s body, making him moan erotically as he savored food like Casanova savored bodies.

 

Will was an animal, a primordial beast reawakened, lost in his new nature that Hannibal helped provide.

 

Even with his horrendous table manner and sauce streaked across his chest and cheeks, Will was still more beautiful than anything Hannibal had ever seen. The doctor didn’t know it yet, but he was absolutely helpless before Will, besotted by the hints of violence hidden in his fangs, burning in his eyes, reflecting off his glinting talons.

 

Hannibal shuddered and palmed his groin, hoping to ease the growing pressure in his pants. His attempt at relief only spurred erection even more, and before long the doctor had his shaft out, hard, leaking, but still hidden under the table as he inconspicuous stroked himself right in front of his guest.

 

He imagined blood in place of sauce, still warm and dripping between hungry lips. He sighed at the sight of Will’s tongue, more suited to tease holes and shafts instead of marrows and bones. He think about his mouth, open and willing as cum splatted messily across it, throat working to swallow it before purring,

 

“Delicious.” The man said as he greedily licked his fingers. 

 

Hannibal hummed in reply and came quietly into his napkin, eyes serene and placid as he gaze upon Will's sate ones, both relaxing in their respective afterglow.

 

“Beautiful.” Hannibal finally said out loud.  Will grinned, wings fluttering happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	4. Stitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two men continued their conversation, which was interrupted by an unexpected guest.

After devouring every last bit of Hannibal’s feast, Will sheepishly apologized for his boorish behavior and offered to clean up. Magnanimous as ever, Hannibal accepted, leading them to a kitchen so pristine, Will was afraid of leaving finger prints on it’s gleaming surface.

 

Despite this, they worked in quiet domesticity, each confident enough in their own skin to not fill the silence with pointless chatter.

 

Yet when Hannibal did spoke up, his words were far from pointless or trite.

 

“Seeing you eat was truly a pleasure.” He said, his tone so rich and warm it made Will feel like he’s swimming in melted ganache. “I would like to cook for you again.”

 

Will looked at him with an unreadable expression, deadpan and hesitant. “You’re so strange Dr. Lecter.” Came the stoic reply, but even the brusqueness of answer was betrayed by his perky wings.

 

They rose up high above his head, unfurling ever so slightly so that the individual quill appeared fluffed and separate. Then they began to vibrate, just ever so slightly, giving off a barely audible trill that resonated with Hannibal’s crystals, making wine glasses hum in a melodic tone not unlike a Theremin.

 

“Fascinating.” The doctor mused, drawing close to graze the back of his hand at Will’s puffed out wings. The man stepped away, alarmed by their sudden closeness, but his wings quivered even vigorously until he forced them to close.

 

A quiet lull overcame them both.

 

“Are you… Happy, Will?” Hannibal asked tentatively.

 

The man just turned around and busied himself with the already clean plates. From behind his wings, Hannibal could see the beginning of a blush rising from the edges of his shoulder to his neck.

 

“… Yes.” Will eventually admitted with a tone of a like a schoolboy caught breaking a rule. It was terribly endearing, and Hannibal would pay a fortune to bury his nose in his hair, just so he could find out what Will’s happiness smells like.

 

“God.” Will laughed, throwing a damp washcloth into the empty sink. The remaining suds splattered around and swirled down the drain. He wanted to slink right along with them. “It’s as if I’m one of my dammed dogs. Wagging my tail when I’m happy. Dropping them when I’m sad.” He chuckled, all sardonic and hollow. “Embarrassing really.”

 

Hannibal drummed his fingers on aluminum table. They didn’t leave any finger prints, which made Will considered buffing out his own from the faucets. _‘This was a fucking mistake. I should go home.’_

 

Before he could reach for the washcloth, Hannibal stopped him, placing the tips of his talented fingers on Will’s bare chest. Like a trained soldier, Will’s whole body stood in attention, completely focused on his touch. Overwhelming. Distracting. ‘ _and so goddamn big. Why are his hands so big?’_ Will scowled, both impressed and envious of the man’s larger than life presence.

 

“Your fort is impressive Will.” The man said, contemplative and kind. “No doubt a result of a life full of restraint and discipline. Avoiding eyes, controlling your facial ticks and gestures... These are your moats and walls, your first line of defense against a world that constantly assaults your mind. It’s natural to feel disarmed, even betrayed, by the arrival of something so expressive, so significant and substantial, that it moves the very atmosphere it threaded.”

 

“I… are we in session now?” Will snorted, only to have it smothered away by Hanibal’s compassionate gaze. It hurts. His kindness hurts.

 

Like a gentle father welcoming back his wayward son, Hannibal cupped Will’s cheek, his touch so incredibly gentle that it shocked Will by their sweetness.

 

The man smelled like leather and spices. _‘Like he belongs in my belly.’_

 

“I urge you to be kinder, both to yourself, and to your new friends.” Hannibal smiled, treating his wings like living beings worthy of respect. “And when it feels impossible to do so, come to me, and I will be kind to you both.”

 

“I…” Will stuttered, a face a mess of emotions, body flushed and too damn warm for him to be able to concentrate. No words were necessary, for his wings bridged the gaps where speech failed him.

 

Hannibal laughed, his neat hair tousled by the rustling of Will’s enthusiastic wings. “Yes little ones, I am happy too.” And Will had no reason to doubt the man, for his joy was genuine and his smile was devastatingly real.

 

***

 

Awkwardness didn’t seem to exist in the good doctor’s book, for he transitioned from that terribly heartfelt conversation into casual chitchats about ports and Madeiras. Will indulged the man, both in speech in person, letting himself be pulled over to a small parlor.

 

A glass of fortified wine found its way into his hand, as sweet and deep as the dark looks he caught the Hannibal sending his way.

 

For that alone, Will was glad he had his wings pinned against the chair.

 

“I have a gift for you.” Hannibal declared, rising up from his seat and disappearing before Will can protest.

 

He did so anyways, peeking his head around the corner and mumbling ‘not my birthday’, ‘you don’t have to do that’ and ‘what is this, Christmas?’ Only a distant chuckle answered him, but it didn’t make him feel silly or stupid like most people do when they laugh. It lifts his soul and filled him with giddy anticipation.

 

So Will waited quietly, his glass emptied and legs tucked under his seat, gathering his defenses and he made himself into a safe little ball, eager to protect his heart from this man who seems eager to sneak himself in.

 

Before he could properly gather himself, the doorbell rang and Will stiffened completely, as still as stone. His wings rose up, hidden talons sliding out from feathers like a cat’s paw. ‘ _Who fucking dares?’_ He felt almost feral, and the temptation to let himself go was just too seductive to resist.

 

Yet his wrath dissipated as soon as he saw Alana’s sweet face peeking from the windowpane. She looked surprised to see him, but she smiled and waved at him anyways, motioning for him to open the door.

 

Will nodded, carefully approaching her with his wings pinned low, as curious and skittish as a colt.

 

When he finally opened the door Alana greeted him with a dazzling smile. “Will! I didn’t expect you to be here.” She said, face flushed from the cold. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

 

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He automatically said, years of southern hospitality automatically taking over his baser instinct to protect himself. It just wouldn’t do to have a lady freezing outside, and this is Alana. Sweet, gentle Alana. He didn’t mind letting her know his wings. Maybe she could even help him, both her and Dr. Lecter. Now wouldn’t that be nice?

 

The man stepped aside and opened the door, avoiding her eyes as he took her coat. A pleasant aroma rose from their confines, smokier than her usual floral perfume, seductive almost. Will also noted her dress, form fitting and gorgeous, made to show off her womanly curves while remaining tasteful. Her nails were manicured and her makeup flawless.

 

Where others may be stunned by her beauty, Will remain placid and unimpressed. The curse of his empathy was that he could see through all of these neatly placed glamor and see them what they truly were; weapons of a woman on a hunt.

 

Somehow that fact made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

 

Alana stilled when as she realized the state of his undress. “Oh are you…” her words petered off as she paled, but she wasn’t even looking at his wings. Instead her eyes were trained on his half naked body, jealousy and hurt flashing behind them.

 

“Alana.” Hannibal exclaimed, surprised to see her inside his home, and even more surprised to see Will exposing his wings to her. “You look wonderful tonight. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

She quickly put up a polite smile and passed him a paper bag. “I drove by a cute little bakery and was reminded of you. Here, to thank you for the book you gave me.” Hannibal hummed and peeked in.

 

“Patisserie Poupon! How thoughtful.” He placed a hand on Will’s shoulder and smiled. “You’re just in time. We just finished dinner and were just winding down for some digestif. Would you care to join us?“

 

“Oh no. I couldn’t possibly intrude.” She flashed an uneasy smile towards Will. He just cocked his head, unsure of what to make of her many contradictory emotions and ignorance. “I should really get going.”

 

“Of course. Let me walk you to your car.” Hannibal said, taking her coat from Will’s arm and offering his own to Alana. She smiled tightly and shook her head, eyes flashing up towards Will.

 

“Drive safe.” He said, raising one wing to wave goodbye. She didn’t even glace at them.

 

***

 

The front door opened and closed with a thud, signaling Hannibal’s return. Will didn’t get up to greet his host like he know he ought to do. Instead, the man sat himself close to the fireplace, toes digging onto the lush carpet as he wrapped his wings around him body like a duvet.

 

Something about that encounter bothered him. Will was ready for her surprise, expected it even. His mind ran through every possible scenario in painstaking detail, mentally preparing himself for rejection to a point of anxiety. However, when he looked into her eyes, Will saw nothing. No awe. No wonder. No fear. Just jealousy and bitterness, simple human emotions.

 

All things considered, Will should feel relieved. After all, he spent the majority of his life trying to be normal. These wings were the ultimate manifestation of his abnormal-ness, so to have them be invisible was good, right?

 

‘ _But how could she not see? They’re so big and white and wonderful! Was she blind?’_ Will huffed, affronted by the thought and his wings chuffed along with him.

 

Light footsteps entered the room, along with a rattle of china on a serving tray. Hannibal had the cakes plated up, and he even brewed them a pot of tea. Will rose from his place and helped Hannibal carried everything over.

 

“She’s was hoping to catch you alone.” Will said quietly.

 

“Oh?” Came the absentminded reply, brown-red eyes watching carefully as Will place the delicate china onto a nearby table. “Oh.” He hummed again in understanding when he caught Will’s knowing look. “Oh dear.”

 

Will took a seat and stabbed at his cake, ruining the beautiful confectionary before finally taking a bite. ‘ _Too sweet.’_ he crunched his nose, returning it back onto it’s tray. Hannibal just sipped his tea, his own plate untouched.

 

“And she thought we were-” he swallowed hard, unable to form whatever lurid word to describe Alana’s misunderstanding.

 

“Yes. She gave me quite a speech about professional conduct and healthy doctor-patient boundaries.” Hannibal placed his cup back to it’s saucer. “I reminded her than we are technically just friends.”

 

That finally takes the cake. Will groaned and let his instinct take over, curling back into a feather ball, away from the doctor who was far too amused by the whole situation.

 

“I guess I should apologize.” he muffled from his little cave. ‘ _But I don’t want to.’_ came the petulant thought. He lifted his wings, just enough so he could peek at the doctor’s smiling face then completely shut himself back in, wishing he could nail a sign that said ‘No psychiatrist allowed’ and be left alone.

 

Will didn’t want to be here anymore. He’s already full and sleepy, and being with Hannibal was making him all confused in the of strangest way. ‘ _Must be the alcohol.’_ he reasoned, because to admit that he has an insipid little _crush_ on the doctor was too mortifying for him to accept.

 

“Please don’t.” Hannibal sighed. A gentle hand petted the walls of his little feather fort, an act that only made Will shrink further into a smaller ball. “There’s no need for an apology Will. I’m glad you’re here. Otherwise I would be left with the unsavory task of rejecting poor Alana.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, really.”

 

“You didn’t want to… I mean, with Alana-“

 

“No Will, I do not.”

 

“…kay.” Will conceded, choosing to believe the doctor, yet he still remained inside. Hannibal didn’t mind. Just seeing the pattern of feathers interlock together was a delight. Not even Leonardo himself could conceive such divine arrangement.

 

Eventually Hannibal sensed the silence began to suffocate the poor man.

 

“I’m glad we understood each other Will.” Hannibal said, looking over to the mess that Will left on the table. “Do you still want your cake?”

 

“No.”

 

“Alright.” Delicate china rattled gently as they were cleared away. Inside his cocoon, Will could see Hannibal’s shadow looms and then dissipates out of sight. Eventually his warm hand returned, petting him with heavy strokes that made his feather hum in delight.

 

“Would you like your gift now?”

 

“No gifts.” The little ball rumbled. “Not my birthday.” He huffed, and Hannibal couldn’t help but be endeared at this new side of Will emerging from his confinement.

 

“What a shame.” Hannibal made a big show of sighing and shuffling the gift. “I worked so hard on it.”

 

“You made it?” Curios blue eyes peeked out from feathered slits.

 

“Indeed. I made it especially with you in mind.” Hannibal smiled, purposely hiding his offering behind his back. Will huffed again and closed the slit, knowing full well what the doctor was doing, and letting himself be dragged into it anyways.

 

“… ‘guess I do want it.” Will muttered.

 

“Wonderful. You’ll have to come out of your wings my dear, can you do that for me?”

 

The feather balls just shook and trilled, and then growled in an attempt to threaten him.

 

Hannibal bit his tongue, swallowing his laughter at Will’s poor attempt at hiding his emotion. A small chuckle escaped his lips when a grabby hand jutted out from within the fluff.

 

“Give.” Will grumbled. This time Hannibal did laugh out loud.

 

“What a terribly rude boy you are.” He chided. Will growled at his gentle reprimand, his hand inching slowly back into the folds. Before they could disappear, Hannibal caught the slender wrist and pry his fingers open, placing one of his gifts into Will’s hand.

 

“I hope you like it.”

 

Slowly the man unwound himself, revealing browns curls, feral eyes, and an certain little frown. He brought the fabric close, blinking at curiously. “It’s a shirt.” He stated, obviously underwhelmed.

 

“Turn it around.” The doctor urged and Will tentatively obeyed, his tensed body softening when he saw the two neat slits of the back, perfectly sized for his wings.

 

‘ _For me. He made these just for me.’_ His wings clamored in joyous delight.

 

“These stitches are very neat. “ Will said in a pathetic attempt of a praise. If it were anyone else Hannibal would’ve deemed that rudeness enough reason to bring them to the butchering table, but this was Will, and the sight of his wings floating high and fluttering was reward enough for the good doctor.

 

“Thank you Will. I’m quite out of practice, but I’m glad you approve of my handiwork.”

 

He brought out the rest of the shirts and placed them on Will’s lap for inspection. They came in a range of neutral color, with a few rich jewel tones that Hannibal thought would compliment Will’s skin and eyes. They were delivered from his tailor, but Hannibal personally altered each one, even taking the time to monogram a tiny ‘W.G’ on the end of each shirttail.

 

It felt so right to provide for Will like this. In Hannibal’s eyes, it’s the most sincere form of possession, to coax someone independent to relinquish control and rely on him for their every needs. Food, clothes, ‘ _Eventually shelter.’_ He thought, already excited at the prospect of this beautiful creature completely bonded to him.

 

So it made him bristle unhappily when Will looked at him with a distant look and said, “I’ll pay you.”

 

“Nonsense.” Hannibal insisted, his tone firm and authoritative. “You will do no such thing.”

 

“But I don’t know how…” The beautiful wings floated down, sagging heavily against Will’s back. “This is too much. Even my best shirt aren’t as nice as these.” He softly admitted.

 

A logical part of his brain knew that he should to fold the shirt and return them politely, yet Will’s hand clutched the shirts close against his chest, sinking into the quality fabrics he never allowed himself to indulge in. ‘ _Mine.’_ Will thought, staring zealously at them.

 

“It pleases me to provide for you my dear. Wont you let me do that?”

 

Hannibal breathed in softly as the whites of Will’s eyes began to bleed into black. ‘ _There you are.’_ he smiled, taking a chance to cup Will’s face.

 

Overcome by animalistic instinct, Will turned to nuzzle Hannibal’s palm, purring at the contact. “She couldn’t see them.” He crooned sorrowfully, cradling one of his wings into his arms. “She looked right past them and like they didn’t exist.” Will lamented. Heaviness overcame his wings, and it made Hannibal ache to see them so weighed down and wilted.

 

“I know Will, I know.”

 

“I didn’t want them in the first place but… but-“ He wailed, blackened tears dripping from his eyes.

 

“Hush now.” Hannibal cooed, taking his pocket square to dab on them. “Some people couldn’t see beauty even it was staring them right in the eye. It doesn’t mean it’s any less beautiful, or any less real.”

 

“They are real, right?” Will begged, his talons unsheathing in agitation, digging deep into the timber of Hannibal’s floor like a scared animal clawing at it’s cage. “Tell me Hannibal, are they still there?”

 

“Of course.” The doctor fell onto his knees and sighed. With all the tenderness he could muster Hannibal sunk his hand into them, stilling the frantic movement of the frightened limbs. “Shall I tell you what I see?” Will used one of his new shirt to wipe his face and nodded.

 

“I see two great white wings, as tall and broad as you and I. They’re lush and full they reflected even the smallest flicker from the fireplace

 

“I see bone talons the size of machetes and as sharp as obsidian. They were the ones who tore out of your back and made way for your wings. They’re dangerous Will, but they’re still as lovely as the rest of you.

 

“When I feel between your quills I can feel your heartbeat pulsing through them. One. Two. One. Two. There. Can you feel it? Each feather is alive and they know it. They delight in their own existence, for nothing has ever been more miraculous. That is what you are. A miracle, nothing short of divine.”

 

Will listened, enthralled by the reverence in Hannibal’s voice. “Thank you.” He whispered, his own voice distorted deep and sweet at the same time. He knew that if he ever doubted again, Hannibal would still believe, and that fact comforted him tremendously. With the man Will felt sated, physically and spiritually.

 

Hannibal saw contentment in Will’s eyes and feel it settled in his own bones. It’s heavy, suffocating even, but it completed a piece of him he didn’t know needed to be filled.

 

“Now then,” He smiled, easing them out of their contained reverie. “How about we try on your new shirt?”

 

“No.” Will petulantly answered, eager to test the boundaries of Hannibal’s leniency.

 

As much as he would love to indulge the man, Hannibal had other plans for them He rose to his feet and pulled Will along with him. “But if you don’t dress then how are we going to conduct our little experiment?”

 

“Experiment?” Will glowered at the word. “What kind of experiment.”

 

“A fun one.” Hannibal grinned.

 

Before he could feign his interest Will felt his wings flutter in agreement. “…Fine.” He grumbled, picking a shirt off the now messy pile. “But if my wings get stuck then I’ll rip them apart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	5. Bulls and Swines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During their outing, Will discovered a new disturbing facet about himself.

Will didn’t collapse into a rumbling ball of feathers, but he certainly felt like he when he saw Hannibal’s chosen grocery store.

 

“I can’t go there.” Will said glibly.

 

“Oh?”

 

“It’s too…” _Pretentious. Upscale. Bougie. Way above my spending power._ “… Crowded.”

 

Hannibal turned to count meager scattering of cars parked outside of the gourmet grocery shop. There were less than a dozen cars and two just pulled out of the property. He turned to Will with a concerned look.

 

“Will, have you always had social anxiety, or did this just manifest after your wings?”

 

The tentative tone of Hannibal’s question made Will roll his eyes. “Hey! No psychoanalyzing.” He scolded, swiftly exiting the car just prove the doctor wrong. “And I don’t have social anxiety.” _‘I just want to buy your grocery after eating all of your food. My money’s no good in places like these, dammit.’_

 

The doctor inclined his head and joined his side, putting his hand on his shoulders in a friendly clasp. His despondent wings instantly perked up, which of course, satisfied the man to no end.

 

“Shall we begin the experiment?” He said with a charming smile. Will scoffed, yet an amused smirk remained on his lips as Hannibal escorted him past the automatic door like he would escort royalty through a castle’s gate.

 

 

***

 

 

“They really can’t see them, huh?” Will quietly murmured as they passed yet another oblivious shopper.

 

“It certainly seems so.” Hannibal agreed quietly, though he’s much interested in the beets he had in his hand than other people’s non-reaction. After Alana’s visit, the man suspected that this might be the case. After all, they’re both exceptional people, so it was natural that the animals of the world could not see the realities of men like them.

 

‘ _That, or a shared madness.’_ Hannibal thought. Folie à deux requires multiple treatments including separation, antipsychotics, and psychotherapy, none of which Hannibal was interested to undertake.

 

If to see Will’s wings was to wade into madness then Hannibal will happily let go of his remaining sanity. It’s worth being in the presence of such beauties.

 

Hannibal watched fondly form afar as Will explored and articulate his new limbs. He raised and flapped them experimentally, waving each one in front of the face of passing shopper, even using them to jostle the produce in their cart. Not one person paid him any mind, except maybe to sneer at the combination of his strangely luxurious shirt and worn corduroys.

 

 _‘How disappointing.’_ Will thought to himself, wincing when Hannibal loaded up a batch of organic carrots that looked too small to fill a baby bunny’s stomach.

 

Aside from the arrival of his wings, seeing Hannibal shop was a marvel in it of itself. The man was absolutely buzzing with energy, explaining one obscure produce after another, before almost leaping onto the next aisle, eager to share his knowledge and passion with Will.

 

It was beautiful to see, and his wings batted up and down in impatience, wishing they could sweep the doctor off his feet and join him in his strange little waltz.

 

“Enjoying yourself?” Hannibal asked, nothing the tender smile Will kept throwing his way.

 

“This? Oh no, grocery shopping is a nightmare, but I like seeing you here.”

 

“… Amongst artisanal dairy products?”

 

Will laughed, a strangled thing that sounded more like a dog’s bark than a chuckle. “No Hannibal, I meant in your element.” He stepped closer, letting his wings guide him closer to the man. “You said we’re here to see how I walk amongst the people, but I like that I’m learning more about you than we are about me.”

 

“Such things come naturally with friendship my dear.” Hannibal replied, feigning nonchalance and hoping the warmth in his chest does not spread up his cheeks.

 

Will laughed even harder and moved even closer to the man, pushing the full cart away so he could step between Hannibal’s feet.

 

The doctor stiffened. His finely honed survival instinct was screaming at him to step away and reclaim his personal space, but Will’s roguish sincerity and fragrant scent that captivated him and his mind.

 

“I’ve never had friends before.” Will quietly admitted, eyes darkening to back. “At least, not someone like you.”

 

“My dear, there is no one like me.” Hannibal breathed out. This made Will smile, a grin with too much teeth and fangs to be sweet or friendly, and yet it drew Hannibal all the same, urging him to lick between their dangerous points, like a carnivorous plant luring it’s prey to die between it’s tendrils.

 

Before his heart could overcome his common sense, a loud commotion from the frozen food isle drew their attention away from each other. An obese man threw a bag of nuggets, scattering frozen bits of processed meat onto the store floor. His strange bloated face turned purple as he berated a poor clerk, cursing them for not having his favorite brand of TV dinner.

 

Hannibal threw a contemptuous glare at the pig but did nothing. He had company with him, so he soothed his disgust by thinking up creative ways to dispatch the boorish cur.

 

“How uncivilized.” He said almost apologetically, but Will wasn’t listening.

 

The blues in his abyssal eyes burned bright with palpable fury. His wings rose like hackles on a wolf’s neck, wing talons out and sharp, gleaming with murderous intent. Hannibal stepped away cautiously, but not out of fear. His whole body was alight with the adrenaline of a crowd before bullfight, eager to witness the carnage while hiding behind their civility.

 

 _‘Go.’_ He wanted to say. ‘ _Charge until you see the pink of his fat, until your feathers turned crimson and heavy with blood. How magnificent you will be, my dear, and I will bestow kisses and worship upon your lips.’_

It would be so easy to rile him up at his state, but Hannibal knew that if he allowed the bull slaughter the pig, it would mean a death sentence for this strangely alluring creature.

 

No matter how deeply he needed to sate his curiosity, Hannibal could never risk the death of such rare creature, especially not over some worthless swine.

 

So he stepped in front of his feral companion and placed a solid hand on his shoulders. “Calm down, my dear.” He said with a voice much suited for kittens and other small critters. Will snarled, turning his blackened eyes towards Hannibal.

 

Dark red veins pulsed and ran from his eyes like tears defying gravity. “Hannibal?” Will asked, his voice no longer his. A thousand demons echoed and jeered, hidden just behind his terrible maw. Yet when as seconds passed, his wings began to settle, unwilling to point their sharpened ends towards their friend. “What the hell are you doing?”

 

“Appealing to your better nature.”

 

“I have none.” Will growled, his voice soft and confused, like a lost child begging for direction.

 

“I would argue that even in it’s absence, it’s still better than most.” He gently tapped a finger underneath Will’s chin and motioned his head towards the man throwing a tantrum. “It’s certainly better than his, don’t you think so?”

 

Those words stilted Will’s growling, reminding him of his humanity. The slow pulsing veins settled back under his skin and the black in his eyes faded into whites. In an instant shame replaced fury, and it seeped into the very folds on his brains, arrestingly present like a persistent migraine.

 

“Take me home.” He demanded, wrapping his wings, his _weapons,_ around his body.

 

Hannibal nodded and drew Will close, guiding him out with his hand firmly wedged on the space between his wings. The glinting talons sheathed back into place, afraid that they might accidentally injure the doctor.

 

“It’s okay Will. You did well.” Hannibal murmured quietly, but Will knew that it certainly was not okay.

 

 

**

 

Outside only two cars remained, theirs and the repulsive swine’s. Will snapped at the sight and Hannibal made a note of the car’s plate numbers for later.

 

“Will.” Hannibal chided when the rumbling did not cease. Like a scolded child Will slunk onto the passenger seat, legs drawn up and hidden by his feathery limbs. Hannibal petted his hair and murmured something about paying for his things. Will didn’t reply. He was too caught up by the animalistic fervor still simmering beneath his skin.

 

“What’s happening to me?” he asked when after Hannibal returned with the groceries. The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead he put away the shopping wags with meticulous care and slip back into his seat, quietly musing over Will’s question.

 

There’s a certain sadness in his eyes when he met Will’s desperate eyes. “You’re changing Will. It’s something you may have to adjust, but I hope you would not at yourself with such… disgust.” He shook his head. “Not over something as righteous as that.”

 

“I wanted to kill that man.” Will confessed. “The thought enough was disgusting, but the way I was? I don’t know what would happen if you weren’t there to stop me.”

 

“I know what will happen.” The doctor said, his voice still kind and tentative. “You will control yourself because you are not an animal. That man behaved like one, but you are more than just a set of base instinct. No matter how magnified they are now, you are stronger. Remember that my dear.”

 

Will wanted to dismiss his words, to scoff and wallow in self pity and contempt, but he couldn’t dare, not when Hannibal’s eyes shined brighter with a confidence he could never dared to have.

 

Instead he looked away, focusing on the fading light of Baltimore and the quiet road that leads to his home.

 

“It was disturbing.” Will said after a while. “I never did have tasty thoughts but I… I never acted upon them before.”

 

“Does it scare you? Your untasty thoughts and new potentials?”

 

“Does it scare _you?”_ Will returned the question with pointedly, knowing that any sane person would answer yes, because his power was worthy of fear and trepidation.

 

Hannibal just placed a claiming hand on his shoulders and said. “Never.” Looking as fierce as a jungle cat protecting his territory.

 

Will was at a lost for word, so instead of stumbling over them, he brought Hannibal’s hand to his lips, pressing a silent thanks to the hands that have done so much, while wishing he could do the same for the lips that has uttered such profound sweetness.

 

“You’re welcome my dear.” And Will fell asleep cradling his large gentle hands.

 

 

**

 

They arrived in front of Will’s darkened home, no longer a glimmering light of hope at a sea of darkness, but he felt no less safe with Hannibal by his side. “I miss my dogs.” Came the quiet admission. Hannibal caressed Will’s chin before pulling away, taking out his phone to check on information stored there.

 

“The kennel is set to deliver them tomorrow morning, but if you don’t want to be alone then we can drive then and pick them up right now.”

 

“And get dog fur all over your car?” His wings hummed with amusement. “I think I’ve imposed enough on you doctor.”

 

“You are never an imposition Will.” He said earnestly. Will’s stomach twisted up into knots as he forced himself to not climb over the doctor’s lap and impose his lips all over his.

 

Like a calling gentleman after a night of merriment and courtship, Hannibal delivered him safely back to his house, walking him up his empty porch and making sure that Will had everything he needed. When he handed him his new clothes, Will took them and looked away.

 

“Why do you look so sad?” Hannibal asked

 

“I’m not.” Will lied. “Jus’ sleepy.”

 

“Alright then, dear boy. Sleep.”

 

“I…” Will started, but he knows that if he finished his word he would cross the boundaries of their comfortable friendship and wreck it. Still, his wings peered up at Hannibal like timid little puppies eager to be petted. Hannibal chuckled and kneeled down, caressing the despondent little rascals all hanging low beneath Will’s waist.

 

“Good night little ones.” He said before standing up and caressing Will’s cheek. “Good night Will.”

 

He couldn’t return his greeting, nor can he watch him leave, so Will closed his doors and leaned back against it. It didn’t stop his wings from fluttering about in protest.

 

“Stop it.” He hissed. They obeyed, though Will swore he could hear a whine of disappointment rustling from between their quills. “Yeah. I miss him too.”

 

**

 

The following workweek was a hellish affair that would rival even Dante’s magnum opus. Between Jack’s overbearing presence and the team’s prodding about his long weekend at Lecter’s, a piece of office gossip no doubt started by Alana’s concerned ‘inquiries’, Will had just had about enough of people in general.

 

The FBI was supposed to be a pinnacle of excellence and professionalism, but in the BSU, all the personality defects were highlighted by his empathy. Where others see a comfortable relationship between colleagues, Will see a work dynamic that feels familial in it’s petty rivalries and neediness.

 

As an only child Will never did enjoy interactions that requires more than one person, so these intese new revelations only served to isolate him more than he already was.

 

It’s not that he wanted to dislike his colleagues, but his empathy was heightened to new and extreme degree. Whereas he used to infer motivations and nothing else, it’s as if he could read their minds from their facial tics and micro expressions alone.

 

It was beyond exhausting, and every single interaction made Will miss the impenetrable exterior of Hannibal’s façade.

 

The only thing that has dulled was his sense of taste. His appetite was monstrous, but the food no longer appealed to him. When he did stuff his stomach just to quiet its persistent rumblings, his body would violently reject them just mere hours later.

 

“You sure you’re not bulimic?” Beverly asked as she handed him a moist towelette from her purse.

 

“No. And this is the men’s room. Get out bev.” Will sputtered between acidic heaving. He wished she could see his wings so he could cover his pathetic form.

 

Beverly just shrugged cavalierly and crouched close, rubbing his back. “Jack told me to check up on you. He also want me to remind you that lunch ended five minutes ago and that tardiness is unprofessional.”

 

“What a caring and thoughtful man.” Will muttered before a large chunk of tuna sandwich dislodged itself from his throat.

 

“Ooh nice! That’s a big one.” She cackled, patting his back with a bit too much force.

 

His wings bristled at her touch, but Will know she only wanted to help. Well, sorta. Beverly’s schadenfreude was palpable even in his hazy mist of nausea and mayo reflux, but he couldn’t really blame her. He’s been moody and sullen all week so even he felt justifiably punished for his terrible behavior.

 

“I think I’m done.” Will said, feeling his stomach clenching against itself. “Damn it. Now. I’m hungry.”

 

“Ew Graham.” Bev laughed before exiting the bathroom, and for a moment Will thought it would’ve been nice to grow up with a sister like her.

 

After cleaning himself to the best of his ability, Will slunk back into the large lecture hall where the meeting was held.

 

The briefing felt endless. There has been a string of gristly murders in the south that targets choirboys. Tensions were high, and they wanted this killer caught, fast. Will already did what he could. He profiled the killer down to a T, citing everything from his pathology, education level, and even favorite past time.

 

“Will?” Jack tapped the whiteboard impatiently when he noticed Will’s weakened form slumping over his files. “Anything you like to share? Anything _new?_ ” a round of snickers was heard all around.

 

That made his litless wings bristle.

“I’ve already given you all I can Jack. He’s a religious white male raised in a single parent household. He will either have been sexually abused or have pedophilic leanings towards young boys. The degree of sexual religious presentation suggest gloating on his part, not remorse. You will be looking for a narcissistic religious nut. Anything else would be mere conjecture, and conjecture will not catch this man. Good police work will, so I suggest you stop hounding me for information that doesn’t exist and start interviewing mega church pastors!”

 

There were no more snickers now. The room was as silent as the churches that held those boy’s bodies.

 

“Everyone outside.” Jack rumbled. The whole room blinked stupidly at him. “OUTSIDE. NOW!”

 

Everyone left with in a flurry, but Will knew to stay behind. Jack approached him like a stone giant eager to grind him to smithereens, but Will was too hungry to cared. That little outburst took more energy than he thought he had.

 

“This is the second time you’ve been insubordinate Graham.” Jack said, his voice deep and even, threatening. “Then there’s the constant tardiness and shitty attitude. I’m this close to have you suspended. Do. Not. Test me.”

 

The unfairness of it all made lit a fire in Will’s empty belly. He stood up, wing’s flared and talons unsheathed, but before he could lose himself, Will was reminded of Hannibal’s solid hands and warm words.

 

_“You are more than just a set of base instinct. No matter how magnified they are now, you are stronger. Remember that my dear.”_

 

It was then that he allowed himself to meet the eyes his empathy insisted on avoiding. It only took a second, but will saw Jack’s reality and made it his own. The immense pressure for an speedy arrest. Bella’s diagnosis, and the impending end of their marriage. The temptation to just give up and his conflicting need to upheld justice.

 

Suddenly Will’s anger and irritations felt small and inconsequential.

 

“Got it. Sorry Jack.” He said as sincerely as he could. _‘I’m sorry that I’m difficult to work with. I’m sorry your wife is dying. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.’_

 

Somehow that dampened the dark fire that spurred Jack’s anger. The man fell onto the seat next to him, looking as weary as Will was.

 

“Look Will, I think you should sit this one out. Now, listen.” Jack raised a hand to silence his protest. “I know the south is your old stomping ground, but anyone can see that you have something else going on in that head of yours. You tell me your profile is complete? Fine, that means your job is done. Go see Dr. Lecter. Take the weekend and sort whatever shit you have going. After we’re catch this bastard I want you back on the team, on your A game. You understand me Will?”

 

“Yes.” He answered. Satisfied with his curt response, Jack called in the rest up the team and resumed the briefing as if nothing happened.

 

**

 

As disappointed as he was for being sidelined, Will went through the rest of the day with a much better mood that the one he had all week. He graded some papers to kill some time and drove to Hannibal’s office early. In his calm blue and yellow themed longue, Will bounced his legs and counted the seconds. Even his lethargic wings began to hum again.

 

Five minutes before his appointment time was up, the door opened and revealed the good doctor, his face a perfect mask of calm professionalism. Will bounded over, stopping just a few inches away from Hannibal’s face.

 

“Hi.” He grinned. Hannibal replied with fond smile of his own, letting go of his role as a psychiatrist as he indulged at the sight of his beloved friend.

 

“Good evening Will. Please come…”

 

Hannibal face dropped and transformed into something akin to grief. “Oh Will.” He whispered. “What have you done to yourself?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	6. Hunger and Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal examined Will during his session and found a peculiar discovery

Other than for the health of their organs and lower cholesterol, Hannibal prefered to butcher healthy, lean pigs because they’re much easier to transport and transform. This obese man was a mountain, near immovable even by his own swollen feet, and Hannibal will not risk straining his back just so he could bring him to his butchering table whole.

 

He stared down at the malformed body of in distaste. It’s unfortunate that he couldn’t used it as a canvas for  the Ripper’s work. Hannibal had so much things to say about overconsumption and the state of America’s healthcare. Sadly Will would immediately recognize the man, and Hannibal would not risk his freedom just to satisfy his passing whims.

 

Nevertheless, leaving him behind for the wild to consume feels like a terrible waste.

 

‘ _He deserved to be wasted.’_ Hannibal thought spitefully. ’ _People like him are the dregs of society. Humanity’s overall gene pool will be improved by his death.’_

Still, the image of Will dining at his table made the man stop in his tracks.

 

Will Graham was truly a marvel. He gorged himself without being a glutton, preferring to partake in the taboo over everything else. There was a certain poetic irony seeing someone so angelic indulging in something so monstrous, and Hannibal was compelled to witnessed it once more.

 

 _‘Bacon then.’_ He thought, his stomach warming with the thought of sharing breakfast with the marvelous winged creature.

 

Hannibal had plans for Will, dangerous things that would’ve send the man onto the brink of insanity. The wings’ arrival changed that. Hannibal could not risk treating him so carelessly anymore, for Will was the only one of his kind, and if anything, the doctor was quite fond of the rarified and the beautiful.

 

Will just happened to be the perfect combination of both.

 

Who knows, maybe his physical change will be the catalyst that will help him transcend past his humanity. The thought excited Hannibal beyond belief, because it would mean that finally he could have an equal worthy of his attention.

 

With the cheerful thought swimming in his head, Hannibal began to work on butchering the man’s stomach. He’ll brine it in a rich liquid maple syrup and herbs, and then he’ll smoke it over a myriad of fragrant woodchips and aromatics. It’s an ambitious project for sure, but Hannibal was convinced that he could make Will’s wing sing with only one single bite.

 

“The things I do for you, my dear.” Hannibal chuckled as he threw a rope of useless entrails away, humming an aria as he harvested his meat.

 

 

***

 

When he smelled that distinctively atrocious aftershave and heard the nervous tapping of work boots, Hannibal smiled and carried on with his paperwork. He had intended on making the man wait, but as the second passed, he found himself growing impatient. He missed Will, and the doctor was eager to set his sight on the majestic pair of near sentient fins again.

 

However, once he opened his door, Hannibal’s gleeful anticipation quickly devolved into one of abject horror.

 

“Oh Will.” he whispered. “What have you done to yourself?”

 

The man instantly frown and pulled away, feeling strangely chastised by the doctor’s grave expression. “What do you mean?” he said, irritated that the man did not share his excitement for their reunion.

 

Hannibal placed a gentle hand over Will’s shoulders and turned him around, showing the nest of feathers that has accumulated around the waiting room.

 

They circled the previously occupied chairs like a nest of newly hatched duckling, ugly, dull, and fragile. Feathers trailed after him like a line of mutinous soldiers, breaking from the neat formations of his wings and scattering to their own whimsy impulses.

 

“I’m sorry.” Will mumbled, mortified that he’s turned the elegant room into a glorified chicken coop. “I didn’t even notice I was making such a mess.”

 

Hannibal just shook his head in reply. There were more pressing matters than the current state of his waiting room.

 

“Have you been pulling them out Will?” he asked, voice barely containing his rage. _‘I will make sure to cut off your hands if you did.’_ Hannibal quietly promised to himself. He will preserve those beautiful wings, even if it mean killing Will Graham and stuffing his body like a bad taxidermy.

 

Thankfully the man just shook his head, still shocked by his self-made mess to notice the doctor’s anger. The answer helped a little, but Hannibal’s anger remained, even as he ushered Will away from the devastating sight.

 

“Are you in pain? Are _they_ in pain?”

 

“No, not at all. I’m just… hungry.” Will swallowed, the mention of food making his stomach clench. “I ate plenty, I just can’t seem to keep them down for some reason.”. He turned around and bend over, picking after his fallen feathers. It resulted in a foolish little dance where he circled after himself infinitely. Though amusing, it was not something someone of his stature should do.

 

Hannibal stopped him with a gentle pat on his back.

 

“So, nausea?” The man confirmed, tilting Will’s chin up to check on any abnormalities on his nodes. Hannibal continued on his preliminary exams, moved by muscle memories drilled into him during his time as a doctor.

 

He felt for Will’s temperature, measured his heartbeat, and even checked on his pupil dilation. On the back of his mind Hannibal knew that it was a futile exercise. A creature like Will most definitely operates on a different biological mechanism than the ones find on humans, but Hannibal isn’t going to just sit there and watch as beauty wither and die.

 

“And no other complaints? Headaches? Fevers?” Soft knuckles grazed Will’s cheeks. ”You look a bit flushed, my dear. Are you okay?”

 

 _‘Well that’s because you’re too damn close doctor.’_ Will thought, mortified that Hannibal has taken his blush as a symptom of illness.

 

It’s incredibly silly for him to be worked up by a simple examination. Hannibal touches were clinical and fleeting. Sure, they may linger longer that his physician’s usually does, but that doesn’t mean the doctor was interested in Will the same way he was with him.

 

 _‘But he is interested in some way.’_ He deduced as he noticed a sliver of intimacy peeking over Hannibal’s perfect façade.

 

The longer he looked the more Will realized just how deeply the doctor could feel. He had always imagined Hannibal as a steady stream, calm and gentle. He never considered that beneath his veneer was an undercurrent of emotions that was as powerful as the ones he felt.

 

The fact that they would be pointed towards him made Will’s breath hitch in gratitude. The man was scared for him, angry even, similar to a mother would when they see their son coming home with scrapes and bruises or a bloody nose.

 

“You silly boy.” Hannibal sighed, tousling Will’s head of hair in sad affection. “What are we going to do with you?”

 

The intensity of his emotions makes Will want to balk and turn away. It was too much, too strong, but instead of rejecting Hannibal’s tenderness, Will found his eyes closing, body into Hannibal’s comforting touches.

 

It’s a strange feeling to be fussed over like this, especially when he has spent a lifetime of resigned loneliness hidden behind a veil self-sufficiency and disinterest. It’s comforting luxury Will can see himself getting addicted to, and before he could warn himself against it’s dangers, his body moved to indulge, touch starved and ravenous.

 

Like a shivering traveler to a warm hearth, Will drew closer to Hannibal until they were loosely embracing, just enough to feel the heat seeping from Hannibal’s clothes, but not too close that his body would betray his carnal desires.

 

The doctor stood as still as a statue, allowing Will to lean his full weight against his chest, his busy mind too numb to be angry or worried about anything anymore.

 

“I feel unstable.” Will admitted, feeling drunk from the heat of Hannibal’s body. “Moodiness and whatnot. I figured it’s because I’m hungry all the time. And tired. I’m just so tired.” His weary body sagged even deeper against Hannibal’s firm chest, pulled by the faint scent of burnt oak and maple. “You smell good Hannibal. Real good. Like a bonfire in a forest.”

 

The doctor’s breath hitched, but other than that he made no move to pull away. “I’ve been making bacon.” He explained as he resumed the soft caress of Will’s hair.

 

“Bacon?” The mere mention of it made Will lit up like an excited puppy. “You have bacon?” The white of his eyes began to turn inky black, an arresting sight no matter how many times Hannibal had witnessed it. “Can I have some? Please? I like bacon.” He said while licking his lips, looking like he might devour Hannibal instead.

 

It’s quite charming really, but Hannibal had other curiosities to satisfy, and he will not let himself be distracted by Will’s alluring eyes and penchant for cured meats.

 

“Sit down Will.” The doctor said, pulling away to lead him towards his usual chair. ”I will need to examine you before I feed you.”

 

“But I’m hungry _now_ …“

 

The doctor leveled him with a stare that made the man whine, but Will stood stubbornly in place, burying his nose into Hannibal’s lapels to escape his eyes and drown himself in that delectable scent.

 

“I will not ask you again.” He said, this time his voice firm and curt. “Sit down, or I will make you.”

 

The sharp tone made Will bare his teeth in a snarl, a desperate attempt at defiance when all he wanted to do is nod and obey. Despite all of Will’s brave posturing, his wings betrayed his intentions, for they all but sagged around the doctor’s legs, embracing him with what little strength they had left.

 

Just seeing them wrap lifelessly around his feet made Hannibal want to snarl along with him.  


“Suit yourself.” He said, pulling Will roughly into his arms so he could lift him up like a groom carrying his bride.

 

It was a ridiculous sight. Will was a full grown man with a heavy set of wings and full grown limbs, yet Hannibal picked him as if he was but a child. Will certainly felt like one, all chastised and embarrassed, yet too attached to run away and hide. If it was any other person then Will would’ve bitten them and drove back home immediately, but this was Hannibal. The man that smelled of smoke, fire and forest, a refuge from the cold civilization that has snuffed out his flame.

 

Without even realizing it Will moved to wrap his legs around Hannibal’s waist, arms clinging onto his neck for support as the man moved him from one end of the room to the other. Eventually Hannibal stopped and leaned down, placing him onto a chaise longue. Will only held on even tighter, hanging on out of sheer spite.

 

“Let go Will.” Hannibal sighed, patting his thighs softly. Will mewled and shook his head, “No. I like it here.” He grumbled, voice childlike and demonic at the same time.

 

Hannibal sighed and stood back up, feeling the man’s victorious smirk spreading across his neck.

 

 _‘Needy little thing.’_ He thought fondly before twisting Will’s ankle and wrist, disentangling him so he would fall gently onto the sofa.

 

The befuddled look on the man’s face would’ve been comical if it wasn’t followed suit by a stream of black tears.

 

“You’re mean!” Will shrieked in some otherworldly tenor, shaking the windowpanes in the doctor’s office. Hannibal merely crossed his arms and stared firmly at him, feeling quite safe even as Will’s voice rattled his office. He had nothing to fear. His wings remained flat, talons sheathed.

 

 _‘A tantrum.’_  Hannibal thought, both fascinated and amused by this new development

 

“I was so happy to see you again! But you just threw me down like a… like a…“

 

“Ratty old luggage? Bag of trash? Sack of potatoes?”

 

“Yes!!”

 

“No, my dear. I did not.“ Hannibal chuckled before flipping the man over. He was careful to avoid jostling his wings, but the doctor couldn’t help but indulge his sadistic tendencies. He lifted Will higher than necessary and let the man fall face first with an audible thud.

 

“There. Now you can rightfully claim so.”

 

Will didn’t even raise his head before he started screaming into the pillows.

 

“I hate shrinks.” Came the muffled howl. “I hate them, I hate them, _I hate them!”_  

 

“Yes, yes you stubborn little thing. Now come, stretch out your wings before I throw you again.” Hannibal cooed, holding up one weak fin as he carefully traced his fingertip over them.

 

The doctor’s good humor all but evaporate as he noticed the empty bald patches. His feathers has lost it’s healthy shine and glow. The whites now looked yellow, and the rich grey of his soft downy feathers now looked like it was rolled in dirt.

 

“The other one, please.” Hannibal said tightly, suppressing his lamentation as he found the same thing on his other wing.

 

The last time Hannibal saw them the feathers were brimming with life, responding even to the heat radiating from his approaching fingers. Now, they barely trembled. Half dead. Dying.

 

“Good boy Will.” Hannibal murmured guiltily, ashamed at himself for treating Will roughly, even if it was only in jest. “Such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” the man cooed as he stroked the sensitive space between his two wings.

 

Pleased sounds made their way out of Will’s chest as he slowly began to relax. He turned his head and watched the doctor with a pensive gaze, black eyes returning to normal and bringing with it his human civility.

 

“Do you want a snack, my dear?” Hannibal asked. Will nodded, pushing himself up to sit as he began straightening his clothes.

 

Hannibal went and retrieved a container of leftover cutlet sandwich he had for lunch. It was made with human loin breaded in panko, sandwiched between white bread, smeared with brown sauce, seaweed butter, and topped with crunchy shredded cabbages.

 

He brought the meal over and place it on Will’s lap, giving the man space to eat as he returned to his desk and wrote down hi sobservations.

 

Nausea

Vomiting

Shedding

Fatigue

Emotional instability

 

He stopped before adding one last symptom and underlining it with a zeal of certainty.

 

Hunger

 

“This is good. Thank you.” Will said, placing the porcelain container in front of the doctor. Hannibal inclined his head in acknowledgement and cleaned up for him. When he came back, he found Will staring at his little notepad with an unreadable expression on his face.

 

“No diagnosis?”

 

“I’m afraid not. How are you feeling now Will? Are you feeling better?”

 

“Yes. Thank you, Doctor.” He coughed and rubbed his neck, all sheepish and shy. “I’m sorry about … whatever that was. I don’t know what got to me.”

 

Hannibal raised his hand in a nonchalant wave. “That’s quite alright. This is a safe space Will. You are free to express whatever feelings you need to express.”

 

“Even if comes off childish and infantile?” he said with an irritated twitch of his lips.

 

Hannibal clasped his hand behind his back and carefully weighed his answer. Ultimately, the only response he felt appropriate was a simple, “Yes.”

 

Will just laughed and fell onto his usual seat, rubbing his tired brows as he processed the intense emotions that he felt during Hannibal’s examination.

 

As the man quietly mused, Hannibal took the opposite seat and settled into his role as a psychiatrist, letting Will ponder quietly in silence. His littles wings began to move, seemingly invigorated by the meal before slumping into Will’s lap like a tired old dog looking to be petted.

 

“I haven’t been feeling quite myself.” Will quietly spoke up, petting his feather in what Hannibal suspect as an act of self-soothing. “Well, I’ve been feeling _too much_ like myself, to be exact. Everything is still the same, they’re just more… intense.”

 

“Your empathy you mean?”

 

“Yes. Before it was like looking underwater without googles. I can get blurry impressions of people’s motivations. Now it’s like I’m walking on the seabed with a submarine suit on.  It’s still terribly claustrophobic, but everything is crystal clear and in focus, complete with the full spectrum of the rainbow.”

 

Hannibal leaned in, fascinated by Will’s choice of metaphor. “Is it beautiful underwater Will?”

 

Will closed his eyes and shivered, letting Hannibal’s question guide him.

 

“Sometimes. Most of the times it’s just cold. Dark. With strange nipping fishes that looks at me like I’m an alien.” Images of Quantico flashed behind his lids. Jack’s anger. Beverly’s professional disinterest. The eager jeering’s of his fellow agents. “Lonely.” He conceded, his fingers digging deeper into his feathers for comfort.

 

Hannibal nodded, chilled by the same sentiment he often felt while navigating the world.

 

“Transient loneliness comes from a lack of meaningful social interaction and contribution. A chronic existential sense of loneliness comes from the knowledge that we are ultimately alone in this universe, despite the surface level of belonging that families, friends, and jobs can provide.”

 

“No, no. It’s not that at all.” Will waved his hand dismissively. “I never belonged anywhere, but I’ve never been lonely, so things like social support system and belongings?” He smiled sadly onto his wings. “People like me don’t need those sorts of things.”

 

“And yet here you are, lonely.”

 

Will blinked. “Not right now I’m not.” He replied with such openness that it caught the doctor off guard.

 

The answer pleased Hannibal tremendously, so much so that he leaned forward and immediately placed his hand over Will’s.

 

“You will always have a place in my office, and in my home.” Hannibal said, surprised to find that he meant every single word. “Why don’t you come home with me, my dear? Let me feed you like I promise you I would.”

 

Will’s eyes flickered up excitedly before a sensible part of himself took over. “I have food at home…and  I still need to take care of my dogs.” He sighed. “Sorry.”

 

Though he was unhappy with the answer Hannibal nodded and pulled away. It’s unwise to push someone like Will too fast. All that he needed to do was to wait with open arms. When he does come, Will would do so willingly, desperate to fill a hunger that only Hannibal can satisfy.

 

“That’s quite alright. Just know that you have an open invitation for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.” The doctor smiled. “Now then, it is almost ten o’clockso I must insist that you go home, feed your dogs, and fill your belly.” Hannibal rose up and offered his hand for Will to shake. “I will see you next week, yes?””

 

Something akin to disappointment flashed across the man’s face, but it was quickly replaced with relief, like a good little church boy who just resisted his first real temptation.

 

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Hannibal. I’ll see you next week.”

 

**

 

When his hunger woke him from his sleep, Will dragged himself out of bed and forced a tepid bowl of mushroom soup down his gullet. It turned out to be a very bad idea, for not even five minutes later he was heaving over the toilet bowl, retching up the remnants of his fungus-based soup into his proverbial porcelain throne.

 

At least none of Hannibal’s fancy sandwich came up. Will would’ve so felt terribly guilty if it did. It was the fanciest sandwich he had ever eaten, and the poor boy from Louisiana in him still balk at the idea of wasting such fancy food.

 

After he washed his hands and face, Will found his stomach loudly clamoring for more food, but other than his home-made dog food, there was nothing in his fridge. So Will did what he always do when he was short on money; he ducked under the faucet and drank until he felt as bloated as a water balloon.

 

His wings did not approve of that behavior at all. Like an overwatered houseplant, they wilted and fluttered in protest.

 

“No. Get used to it. It’s not like we can eat Hannibal’s food every single day.” He snapped, more for himself than for his tired unresponsive wings.

 

 _‘But why can’t we?’_ He immediately thought, ever the contrarian, even to himself. ‘ _He did offer us an open invitation’_

 

Before he could devolve into a self dialectic about the appropriate frequency of friendly house visits, Will heard a loud lapping sound from the open bathroom.

 

 “Hey!” The man shouted, rushing over to snap his finger at the furry mutt that was indulging himself. “Buster, no!”

 

The dog stilled and then stared at him like he was a stranger. First it stiffened, then it raised his hackles, before growling and finally scampering away.

 

The whole exchange left Will dumbfounded and a little bit more than hurt.

 

Buster was one of his sweeter rescues. Will found him behind a dumpster, the ratty mutt bounding over to him without the aid of treats or trickery. The dog was just like him, alone and eager to be loved. He always felt a special connection to him, just as he felt a special connection to every individual member of his pack.

 

Yet when he turned towards them, they all tensed and looked at him like he was a wild animal, too fearsome to directly challenge, but an outsider nonetheless.

 

It reminded Will of his session with Hannibal last night.

 

_“…we are ultimately alone in this universe, despite our various surface level of belonging.”_

His pack was not just some ‘surface level belonging’. They were his home. When he couldn’t bear to meet other people’s eyes, they were there to provide him with uncomplicated connection and unconditional affection. To have them look at him like he was a stranger stung.

 

It hurts more than the first time he found out about his mother’s abandonment.

 

It took every ounce of his patience to not pitch the large bowl of dog food into the sink and run off into the woods in a fit of rage. Instead, Will let muscle memory take over, busying himself by letting the dogs out and filling their food bowls.

 

Before he realized it Will already finished his chores and it was still only five in the morning. He needed to do something, anything to distract himself from the gnawing need to drive over to Hannibal’s place.

 

Yet as the second ticked by, Will found himself questioning his resistance and failing to satisfy them.

 

Why must he deny himself a privilege that’s already been given freely? Why must he suffer alone here in the middle of nowhere, pretending to get along with a pack that no longer recognized him, delaying the call for food with mere water? Must he pretend to be an island and weather these waves alone? He has a place now, with a friend who waits for him with open arms.

 

 _‘Because you know that you have no interest in being his friend.’_ A dark, truthful part of himself said. ‘ _You come to him so you can sate your hunger and ease this aching loneliness, but once you leave, you will be starving for something else, and it will eat you alive.’_

 

But they already were eating him alive. The memories were vivid and real. Strong hands that can both subdue and caress. The smell of smoke, fire, and forest. An earnest smile. A deep rich timber that can only be heard when he calls his name.

 

“Will.”

 

Without a second thought, the man grabbed his coat and keys and made his way to Baltimore.

 

**

 

“Good morning Will.” Hannibal greeted him with that terribly earnest smile that made him weak and dizzy.

 

“Good morning Hannibal. May I join you for breakfast?” Will asked out of politeness more than anything. They both already know the answer was yes.

 

“Of course, my dear, of course. Come in. I do hope you’re hungry.”

 

A warm wave of relief washed over him, “Always.” He rumbled, wings fluttering in delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will arrives at Hannibal's home and was with something he hasn't seen since he was a child

Doubt clung onto him like an indelible stain on a sinner’s heart, yet Will forced himself through the door anyways, his eagerness winning over the nipping anxieties that swarmed his mind. Just like the owner of the house, just the mere sight of the dark and gold interior soothed Will. Walking into Hannibal’s home felt like steeping into a sanctuary, a place where aberrations like him was welcomed with no question asked.

 

It’s hard to believe that a man like Hannibal Lecter existed. It’s even harder to believe that he would trouble himself over someone like Will. Maybe he just pitied him for his suffering, or worse, he’s just doing his job as a psychiatrist, indulging in a patient’s delusion before he coaxed him out of it.

 

Out of all malevolent scenarios running through Will’s paranoid mind, such betrayal and dishonestly would surely kill him.

 

Nevertheless, despite all of his powers of empathy and deduction, Hannibal remained a closed book. In a world that advertises each person’s thought like a neon bordered billboard, Hannibal was like a blank wall, unreadable and pristine.

 

It should concern Will. Afterall, talking to the doctor was like walking into a room blindfolded, but despite being in the dark, Will could see flashes of Hannibal’s emotions peeking through his mask. Concern, fondness, and even adoration existed in his gentle touches and tender words, and Hannibal gives them to him generously, making him ravenous for more.

 

 _‘No, you greedy glutton.’_  He thought to himself as another of Hannibal’s smile left him breathless. _‘Be happy for what you have or risk losing it all.’_

 

His wings twitched in protest, always embarrassingly honest even when they’re wilted and fatigued.

 

As if he could hear the rustling feathers hit the ground, Hannibal stopped and eyed the white trail that followed Will’s unsteady gait. “Will…” he said as if in pain. “I don’t think you’re getting any better.”

 

The man stepped away, avoiding Hannibal’s eyes like a guilty child caught red handed in his crime. The absurdity of the image made him bristle, and to prove it wrong Will stepped forward, chin jutted up and out in useless defiance. “I’m fine.” He insisted. “Just hungry.”

 

Hannibal looked unconvinced but relented, putting on a pleasant smile and a nod, respecting Will’s decision. “Hungry? Well that I can always fix.” The man purred, leading him from the foyer and into his fragrant kitchen.

 

What Will saw brought up a vivid memory from his childhood that made his belly twist and his mouth water.

 

There used to be a bakery just across the docks where his fathers worked. It was one of those fancy one where they display tiered cakes on wedding season and yule logs in December.

 

Will didn’t care about those frilly little things. As a poor child he was more interested by the overabundance of humble everyday fare. Muffins, cookies, donuts; they filled the display and tempted him into thievery. Only his father’s belt and stern hand stopped him from ever acting on his criminal desires, but every single day Will would always stop in front of the bakery, admiring the warm fluffy things that could quiet his rumbling stomach but he could never really afford.

 

Thirty years later Will found a bounty of baked goods that would put that bakery to shame.

 

Loaves of shiny brioche stood cooling on a rack, steam still visible around it’s corner. Some were plain, some were swirled with chocolate, jams, and fruits or nuts, but they all were fresh and warm. Cheesy buns lay plainly on a tray, it’s surface craggily with crusted cheese and plump with fillings. Muffins, donuts, croissants, tartlets, the list goes on. Not a single surface of Hannibal’s countertop was free, and they all looked inviting and smelled divine.

 

“I feel like I’m in a fairytale. The weird one where kids were lured into a house made of candy so a witch can eat them for dinner.” Will mumbled as he tried his best not to look like a drooling stray.

 

“I assure you Will, I am no witch. You just caught me on my baking day.” Hannibal smiled at the wonder spreading across Will’s face. Eager to show off his work, the doctor picked up a piece of muffin and slathered it with butter. “Try this one.” He said, placing the small morsel on Will’s parted lips.

 

“This is…?” Will eyes widened as he closed his mouth around the morsel. It was like tasting ambrosia, and before he could make out the flavor, he already swallowed it. All he knew was that one bite was just wasn’t enough.  “More.” He growled, catching Hannibal’s wrist as his whole body trembled with need. “Give me more. It’s so good Hannibal, I want it. More.”

 

The absolute desperation in Will’s voice took Hannibal’s breath away. The man did not beg, he demanded, knowing full well that Hannibal would not deny him. Such presumptuous should offend him, but Hannibal were elated, honored like a chosen courtesan in a king’s harem, eager to satisfy the man’s appetite.

 

“Please my dear, take whatever you like. It’s yours.” He stepped away to offer a basket of scones. Within it he place crock filled with human fat and butter. He used it in everything he baked, using the obese man’s excesses to make everything from simple enriched doughs to delicate little pastries.

 

Processing the massive amount of fat was no easy task, but when Hannibal saw Will’s eyes bleeding instantly to black, he realized that he was willing to do anything for this beautiful creature.

 

“So good.” Will gushed. “How can bread taste this good?” He muttered, reaching for a buttery cookie that tasted like flowers and honey.

 

Hannibal just looked at him with secretive little smile before patting him on the head. Will leaned closer into the touch, clutching Hannibal’s sweater as tightly as he clutched onto the basket of bread.

 

‘More’ those dark eyes begged, even as he was surrounded by an abundance of food.

 

‘ _Insatiable boy.’_ Came the tender thought. Faced with such a ravenous creature Hannibal felt a peculiar sense of kindship and alarm. Such a beast could prove to be too dangerous for him to control. _‘That’s because you don’t cannot control divinity. You may only worship, and hopes his blessing would be one of joy and not of blood.’_

The thought made Hannibal pause, for the vivid imagery doesn’t seem like a mere metaphor. It sounded like an irrevocable truth.

“I’ll get the bacon you love so much.” He said quietly after a brief silence.

 

Will’s overwhelming hunger was suddenly replaced with boyish excitement. “The one that smells so good yesterday?” He exclaimed, following Hannibal’s closely to the cheese pantry and back.

 

He looked like a dog, all bounding energy, excited just to be near his master, but Hannibal doesn’t feel like an adored owner. He felt stalked, like stepping into a monster’s lair who hasn’t decide whether to mount or eat the delicious intruder.

 

It’s absolutely exhilarating.

 

Will knelt on the ground and put his chin on the counter, watching with dark eyes as Hannibal pulled out a whole side of belly, glistening with the dark patina of smoke and sugar. He stopped chewing and abandon his pastries, leaning close to the slab of meat to scent it deeply like one would to a bouquet of flowers.

 

“Pine. Maple. Oranges. Coriander. Rosemary.” He rattled off each ingredient then looked up to Hannibal for approval. “Did I get it right?”

 

“Yes you did. Very good, Will.” The doctor praised. Will went back on his heel with a self-satisfied smirk, chuffing proudly at his success as he rewarded himself with a bite of éclair. “Do you like your bacon well done and crispy, or soft and chewy?”

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Will mumbled, watching in rapt attention as Hannibal pulled out a long carving knife and brought it close to the meat.

 

“Thicker.” He interrupted with a hoarse whisper. “I like it thick.”

 

There was nothing more sensual than hearing such hungry demands from a beautiful man. Hannibal swallowed back a groan nodded, glad that he had an apron to hide his growing arousal. The blade glided above the meat, gauging portions until Will no longer furrowed his brows. The doctor ended up cutting a slice so thick it looked more like a piece steak than a conventional rasher.

 

Only Will could make him do something so absurd.

 

Pastel pink and white greeted then both as the blade divided the meat. They contrasted beautifully against the dark smoky exterior of the meat. Hannibal smiled, happy that his experiment proved successful. Will gasped, looking like he just seen the face of god himself.

 

“It almost looks…” For a moment the man struggled, tilting his head here and there and he tried his best to find the appropriate word. “Lewd.” He finally whispered.

 

The word caught Hannibal off guard. If it was anyone else then Hannibal would’ve thought that they were flirting with him, but this was Will, more demon than man, and at this moment he only has eyes for the meat

 

“Food can be very sensual.” Hannibal reasoned, perfectly poised and controlled despite his desire to fuck Will right against the wall. Oblivious to the man’s carnal thoughts, Will nodded in agreement and clambered onto the counter, perching like a gargoyle as he watched Hannibal cooked the meat.

 

“Good boy, Will. You’re going to watch this for me, okay? I’ll cook us some eggs to go with the bacon.” The doctor said, patting Will’s head and brushing off the crumbs from his chin. Claws caught his wrist and pulled it close, scenting the insides of his wrist with careful little sniffs.  

 

“You smell so good.” Came the hushed confession, and the voice was no longer just Will’s. It was that celestial drawl again, monstrous and more beautiful that anything Hannibal has ever heard.

 

“It’s just the bacon, Will. Be patient” He half scolded him away, but Will was having none of that. With an unexpected strength the man jerked him over, catching Hannibal by his neck so he may scent him deeper, nose brushing against the exposed dip of his jugular.

 

“I don’t think I want the bacon anymore.” Said the beast. He unsheathed his talons and covered them both with his wing’s looming shadow. “I think… I think I just want to eat y-“

 

Pure instinct moved Hannibal before he was cognizant of the danger. In an instant he shoved the half-cooked meat into Will’s mouth, then trading tongs for a knife, ready to defend against any attacks. The heat made Will snarl and jerk away, veins appearing on his forehead like growing roots.

 

 _‘Ah, so this is how it will all end.’_ Hannibal thought, completely at peace as he came face to face with death incarnate.

 

Then in an instant all of Will’s aggression melted away. His lips began to move, chewing the meat hanging between his teeth. The veins around his forehead sunk back under his skin, all of the aggression disappearing into thin air. It was as if he was in a trance, pensively munching on the bacon like a tired little noy.

 

It’s funny how such monstrous creature could revert into something Hannibal want to hold close and coddle to death.

 

Confident that the danger has passed, Hannibal put away the knife and picked up his discarded thongs. Feeling petty and vengeful, he used the to pluck the juicy piece of meat out of him mouth lips.

 

The look of absolute anguish on Will’s face was amusing enough that Hannibal made a note to draw it later from memory.

 

 “You said you didn’t want it.” Hannibal taunted.

 

“I do! I do!!!” Will exclaimed, bouncing childishly on the spot. “Gimmmeeeee!”

 

“Well, be a good boy and get a plate for me.” Hannibal gestured towards a cupboard.  Will immediately bounded over and back, holding out his plate with a look that would put Oliver Twist to shame.

 

“Alright, alright. Go sit on the chair and eat your food.” Hannibal said, placing the perfectly cooked meat onto Will’s plate, forgoing cutleries all together. Will chirped and leaped onto the corner sofa, legs tucked under himself, almost birdlike in his mannerism. The man trilled happily, using his wing talons to stab into the thick meat and lower it into his mouth.

 

More than taste, texture, or scent, each careful bite filled Will with such gratification that it transcended his existing physical senses. It blurred the lines of reality, for every mouthful was like a flash of synesthesia, a lost joy recovered, a personal paradise regained.

 

It was like being alive, truly alive.

 

“It’s so good.” The man sighed, for no other words could possibly express the absolute contentment that existed between each bite.

 

“Good enough to cry over?” Hannibal asked tentatively. Will frowned and noticed the black tears dripping onto his knees. ‘ _How strange.’_ The man thought, but the it was quickly replaced by a more disturbing sight.

 

“Hannibal!” Will whined, showing his empty plate with a tragic expression on his face. It was quite pitiful really, but it made Hannibal laugh nonetheless.

 

“I’m already cooking the next one my dear. Go have some more bread while you wait.” Will frowned but obeyed anyways, abandoning his plate in favor for a whole braid of challah. He came to stand beside Hannibal, leaning his head onto the man’s shoulder as he munches pensively. “Good?” The doctor asked. Will nodded, obsidian reflecting the blues of the stove’s flame, indistinguishable from his own iris.

 

Hannibal knew that Will wanted to attack him. There was a split second where the hairs on the back of his neck raised in alarm, a purely animalistic response honed through years of hunting and evading the law. Will’s aura was one of a predator, mindless of anything but his quarry.

 

However what disturbed the doctor wasn’t Will’s savagery or impulse for violence. He had hoped such a thing existed in him since the moment he laid eyes on the man, and their existence brought Hannibal joy, for no longer was he alone in his dark impulses.   


What disturbed Hannibal was as he moved to defend himself, a significant part of him wanted to be eaten.

 

It’s maddening. That desire stood as an antithesis to his whole exitance. It defied years of disciplined training to hone his survival instinct. Hannibal hated feeling like that, for he knows that the feeling was more than just a passing weakness. It was a desire for absolute self-annihilation.

 

He turned to the beautiful monster who looked back at him with complete trust and affection. Hannibal returned the smile and wrapped his arms around Will, embracing him as a friend before caressing his curly locks.

 

‘ _Maybe it’s time to stop feeding the monster and start eating him instead.’_ Hannibal thought as he eyed Will’s sharp talons, r glinting with bacon grease and growing larger by the minute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	8. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Hannibal drew something animalistic from Will, the man began unraveling Hannibal's defences. The doctor is not impressed.

Undeterred by Will’s savagery, Hannibal carried on his duties as host with impeccable poise and careful alert. Though his cautiousness seemed unnecessary at this point, because after he was sated, Will seemed more interested in sleeping off his meal than to engage in further murderous activities.

 

The whole ordeal was strangely domestic, like gentling a feral cat and winning over its affection. However, unlike with strays and domesticated animals, the very act of feeding Will left Hannibal so utterly aroused that he often had to excuse himself to settle his randy erection.

 

It’s unnerving, for no one has ever brought on such strong reaction from the doctor like this. He had lovers before, of course, but even the loveliest amongst them couldn’t rouse an erection that he didn’t want. Hannibal prides himself in having complete dominion over his own body, and to have it wrenched from him by an innocent act like eating was both disturbing and exhilarating at the same time

 

Feeding people has always been an act of dominance for Hannibal. His shared meals were nothing more than a demonstration of his skill and prowess. It’s a purely selfish act on his part, a noble scattering pittance to unworthy masses, but with Will it was different.

 

Feeding him felt like falling into the arms of a lover, like having his control wrenched away and replaced by pure animalistic instinct.

 

It’s terrifying, really.

 

Still, primal satisfaction swelled his chest with pride when Hannibal sees just how his kill nourished Will’s anemic body. It made him feel worthy, for the creature has deigned to accept his offering and rejects others. It placed Hannibal high above everyone else, cementing the belief that he was a superior creature compared to the swine around him.

 

The sentiment should’ve stopped at indulgent pride, but Will’s movement drew attention from his wandering eyes. Before long found their mark, Hannibal began to feel at a loss once more.

 

Watching his mouth move and lips slicken invoke fantasies of the man feasting between Hannibal’s strong legs. Every one of his swallow and hum of appreciation made the doctor want to fuck more obscene noises out of Will’s pretty little throat. He wanted to ruin him, make his black eyes bleed ink down his face like Goya painting over a Botticelli masterpiece, irreverent in his violation, all in the name of achieving transcendence.

 

If he had his way, Hannibal would completely possess this rare creature that is Will Graham. He would chain him down with a rope of pearls, stuff him full of flesh, and then take him until his hole gape and leak with the gentle ooze of his seed.

 

“Hann…?” A sleepy voice broke him out of his lewd reverie.

 

Hannibal put away the dishes he’s been drying and came over to Will like a dutiful husband. The man was all curled up in the kitchen armchair, molting wings thrown over himself like a comfort blanket. It made him look soft and small when he is anything but.

 

With great fondness Hannibal stroked Will’s head, watching in interests as the man blinked away last of the inky blankness from his eyes.

 

“Did you have a good nap?” The doctor asked, caressing Will just behind his ear.

 

The question prompted Will to jolt up to a sit, hands folded over closed knees and eyes swimming embarrassment. “…. Fuck.” He breathed, lax body tensing anew as he recalled his childish behavior “Fuck, Goddamit, Hannibal, I’m so sorry.”

 

‘ _Endearing boy.’_ Hannibal thought, completely charmed by the slew of expletives that slipped through his pouty lips. “Whatever do you have to be sorry for?”

 

His previously cherubic features crumpled and fell, haggard, a slice of paradise reclaimed by the mundane banality of daily life.

 

“Please don’t make me say it.” Will mumbled, avoiding Hannibal’s eyes completely. Why must the doctor make everything so difficult? Here Will was trying to apologize for being a boorish pig, and all the man wanted to do is play stupid and pretend everything was fine. It doesn’t help that Hannibal had whisked away any evidence of his rabid gluttony, like an accomplice in a crime scene hiding his sin. ”You know what I’m talking about…”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t Will. There is nothing to apologize for.” Hannibal said, his tone carrying a slice of finality to it. Will found himself eager to agree, just so he wouldn’t have to relive the desperate touches he lavish over the doctor’s body. “Come. It’s nearly past lunchtime. We’ll have afternoon tea in the garden and enjoy the beautiful weather.”

 

Eager to make up for his mistakes, Will jumped up and followed his host, hovering around while offering his help for every single thing Hannibal did. “I can do that… I can hold that for you… Let me…”

 

Amused by Will’s desperate at meddling, Hannibal politely tapped his hands away and let the man standing by the counter as he busied himself with a pot of tea. Hannibal enjoyed Will’s discomfort, but more importantly he enjoyed having Will’s whole focus on him, wings perking up at the smallest hint of his attention.

 

When he deemed that the man has suffered enough, Hannibal deposited a heavy tray of tea and saucers onto his arms. Will looked almost comically grateful for them. He was truly a beast of burden eager for labor, and it made Hannibal understood the pathological way Will drove himself to death in his work.

 

“You really don’t do things half assed, don’t you Doctor?” Will mumbled, eyeing the generous basket of fruits and cheese Hannibal had packed. He even had a red checked blanket peeking from the corner, swaddling the bounty against the hard coner of the wicker basket.

 

Hannibal only answered with a noncommittal hum, turning his attention to the fougasse in his dwindling bread reserve. Will continued to tease the meticulous man warmly.

 

“You bake your own bread, smoke your own bacon, pack your own basket for a ‘quick tea’ in the garden…” He shook his head. “You’ll make a great wife someday.”

 

The awkward little compliment brought on a laugh that rumbled deep from Hannibal’s belly. “Thank you my dear, and from the way you beg and scarf down food, you would make an excellent family pet.”

 

“Oh I see now. You won’t accept my apology, but you’ll torment me all day, is that it?” Only a sly little wink answered his dismayed accusation. “Sadist.” Will mumbled, affected by Hannibal’s contagious little smile as they made they was out into the backyard.

 

Like the rest of the house, Hannibal’s garden was massive and perfectly manicured. Tall hedges lined the wrought iron fence, providing them with both shade and privacy from the outside world. Small bushes of round topiaries sprouted from evergreen lawn, all of the healthy without a wilting leaf in sight.

 

Aside from the modest bushes scattering the porch, the field was all but bare, giving space for a massive oak tree. It stood taller than the house, with thick heavy branches that dipped low before rising up back to the heavens. They look like tines on an deer’s antler, a king’s crown molded in nature.

 

“Wow.” Will unknowingly breathed out the compliment, completely taken by the sheer presence of the tree. When wind blew past them, the branches rustled and swayed, moving along with the breeze as if it was breathing.

 

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Hannibal smiled. “I’m told it existed long before the house was even here. It was terribly neglected when I moved in, but with some careful pruning, and TLC, the old thing managed to revive itself before I even set up my private practice.”

 

The endearing little story made Will chuckle. “I’m not surprised. You do have a knack of taking care of broken things.” Will mumbled, feeling rather embarrassed by his overt show of emotions.

 

This is why dogs are easier. You can praise them for all sorts of useless things and you wont ever feel silly around them.

 

A boyish urge to clamber over the branches almost made Will abandon his place from Hannibal’s side, but the doctor’s strange little smile kept him near and on the ground. He followed the man to the bench instead, groaning in satisfaction as he stretched out all of his limbs and draped them over the back of the bench.

 

Hannibal allowed the quiet to continue, happy to nibble on a piece of cheese and bread while his guest rested beside him. Will let out a satisfied little purr, content to soak up the warmth of Hannibal’s company and the afternoon temperate Baltimore weather.

 

The easy silence was broken by Hannibal’s soft voice, drawn out from the man in a dreamlike haze, entranced by the purr of Will’s voice.

 

“There’s a forest in the estate where I grew up, filled with trees much like this one. It’s not a pleasant place. The foliage is thick and untamed. Dangerous animals roamed at night; wolves, bears, rutting bucks that screamed like dying men.”

 

Hannibal chuckled, sipping on his tea before continuing. “The place terrified my little sister, so I made it a point for us to climb each gangly tree that scared her. I wanted to show her that it was just shadows and nature, not demons and monster like she had in her head.”

 

“Exposure therapy.” Will grinned, his wings trilling with life as the vivid image of the Lecter estate entered his head. “Already healing minds at a young age I see.” he chuckled proudly.

 

Will could just picture a young Hannibal clearly in his mind, a lording as poised and patient as the gentleman he was today. Hannibal would’ve followed his sister everywhere, a steadfast protector who adored her more than anything else in the world.

 

“Did it work?” he asked, eager to know more about the man’s past. “Is she still scared of the forest?”

 

Hannibal’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes drew to a close and his voice grew somber. “I’m not quite sure. She died soon after we started that game, so I never had the chance to properly ask her.”

 

The abrupt confession pulled Will out of his vivid world and left him with the same grief Hannibal felt on the day of her death.

 

He could see Hannibal’s veneer chipping off slowly like a casualty in a war of attrition. The man stood up and sat over Hannibal’s lap, crowding over him awkwardly just so he could cup his shapely jaw and read the sorrow etched in his face

 

Hannibal’s breath hitched at the intrusion, but Will settled him by caressing a soft thumb over his high cheekbones, brushing away the tears that has long been shed and left the man parched.

 

“Mischa was her name.” Hannibal said, secret words revealed easily at the face of this angelic creature. “She died in the winter. It was…” He gnashed his teeth together over the memory of evil men and their flesh, memory of the injustices wounding him anew. “It was murder.”

 

Will never thought grief could taste as sweet as Hannibal’s ragged breath.

 

“Did they pay for what they did?” he asked.

 

“Yes.” Came the growl of a victor, a man of vengeance with his purpose fulfilled. “Every last one of them has paid with their pound of flesh”

 

He would expect nothing less from a doting lording lost in his grief.

 

“Good.” came the guttural response, a vicious creature sating itself with fantasies of mayhem. If he didn’t cherish the man so, Will would’ve asked for the gory details.

 

A brotherly embrace fell over Hannibal’s frame, forcing him to catch the full weight of Will’s body.

 

“Thank you for teaching her how to climb.” The man whispered into his ears, as if he was guarding their secret from the eavesdropping tree. “Thank you for protecting her when you could. Thank you for seeing her justice served.” He pulled away and brushed away the tears that he drew from Hannibal’s lids. “Thank you for surviving.” Suddenly Hannibal is no longer parched. He was filled to the brim with the sheer magnitude of Will’s unreserved affection.

 

Hannibal looked at him like he was mad, at war with weakened indignation as he tried to make sense of the man’s outburst. “Don’t pity me Will. You can’t say those things for her. You only found out about her moments ago.”

 

“I don’t pity you, nor do I speak for her.” Will said, nuzzling his forehead against Hannibal, overcome by his adoration for this wonderful man. “I know that you tried. That alone should be acknowledged and appreciated.” His wings rose high, and when Will pulled away, his face had eclipsed the light. The sun became his halo, and earth was the throne in which he sits.

 

It was then that Hannibal believed in God, in Magic, for he held Him in his arms and the sheer weight of His words blessed him with peace.

 

“Will… Your wings.”

 

A rain of feathers fell onto them as two wings shook and molted until there was nothing but skin and bones. Before their eyes each translucent skin began to fill with muscles, bulging anew with crimson flesh before they are covered by quills as sharp as an albino crow’s beak. New feathers plumed out from the bladed stalks, thick and bright. Suddenly Will felt as light as his joyous little laugh, and Hannibal can only sit back and stare as he twirled and danced with the life in his new wings.

 

Will was ethereal, a monster as deadly as Hannibal himself, edifying in his splendor and majesty.

 

“You.” Will turned to Hannibal and leaped back onto his lap. “It’s you. It’s you. It’s all because of you.” The man slurred endearment against his skin. Hannibal didn’t dare move. He was too busy memorizing the feel of the wind from these newly-shed wings and the feel of an angel in his arms.

 

“Thank you Hannibal, thank you.” Will whispered, his voice and Mischa’s began blurring into one.

 

***

 

 

As rational thought regain control over his mind, Hannibal lied and excused himself from Will’s company with promises of dinner and a swift return. The man was too caught up in his celebration to be vexed by Hannibal’s departure, and he bid him to come back soon with a longing voice. Hearing it’s sorrowful crooning suffocated the doctor’s chest like a bad case of pneumonia.

 

‘ _No._ ’ Hannibal thought. For all his time in medical school Hannibal knew that when a man has ensnared the very breath out from his chest, he was suffering from a very serious malady.  ‘ _Lovesick.’_ He thought, chuckling helplessly at his own diagnosis.

 

He though that Mischa’s death has inoculated him against such nonsense, but here he was, vulnerable and weak before a living Icarus.

 

Its should be impossible. The last time he ever felt such a thing was when his father charged him to be Mischa’s protector. She was his blood, the very purpose that drove his life. Now, Hannibal’ couldn’t even find her face in the halls of his memory palace.

 

How could he? His heart only have a place for one, and his head was filled with Will’s gentle smile.

 

_‘Enough_.’ Hannibal decided, calmly reading into a drawer to fill a syringe with his sedative of choice. He eyed the elegant row of blade lining neatly on his knife block before deciding on a chef knife, a steadfast companion that felt like an extension of his own cruel hand.

 

It saddened him to even think it, but Hannibal knew that Will has to go. At first Hannibal welcomed him as a curious oddity, a pet to stave off the encroaching ennui of daily life, but now he has gone too far. Will has desecrated the sanctity of his mind and touched a part of himself he thought only he could control. This man was too dangerous to be left alive.

 

A single smile from his lips could undo a decade of secrets, and a gentle question would destroy carefully constructed machination. There were too many ways Will could end him, and that’s not counting the sharp bones sheathed within his wings.

 

‘ _It’s unfortunate, but it’s must be done.’_ Hannibal thought coldly, refusing to let grief and passion dictate his action. Instead he began to think of an appropriate recipice to honor Will’s death and celebrate his life.

 

He wondered if the wings would taste like pork or chicken. Maybe it would be a strange combination of both, and the man pretended that the novelty of that meal could make up for the sorrow of his death.

 

Hannibal was mere inches from the door before a sight from his kitchen windows captivated him completely. The beautiful thing has abandoned the bench and took shelter on one of the tree branches, stretching the lithe silhouette of his body and unfurling the full length of his wings.

 

Sunrays filtered through the canopy and fell onto his face. Even the distant star was taken by him, vying with the shadows for the honor of bathing him in their respective splendor. A contented smile replaced the tragedy he carried on his face, and it made him like a Caravaggio youth in a Boucher’s idyllic scenery, enthralling all who has laid their sight on him.

 

The man was a living piece of art, and Hannibal helped brought the beautiful sight into existence.

 

With that realization in mind the doctor put away his sedatives and knife and just stood there, drinking his fill on beauty until he was no longer parched for it. Hannibal was a man at war with himself, and he could not proceed before he resolve this conundrum.

 

It’s only natural to want to secure one’s safety and freedom, but Hannibal would be remiss to do so by destroying something that’s supposed to be worshiped and adored. It’s true that Will Graham was more than dangerous. He’s singular in his beauty and unmatched in his violent potential. He can bring him joy, or he could ruin everything the man worked so hard for in his life.

 

Hannibal thought he has achieved all that a man could ever want in life. Money, power, prestige, and the ability to contribute to the world by ridding it of it’s pest and transforming them into art. It wasn’t until now that he realized that they were mere distractions, artificial hurdles he put in front of himself to stave life’s existential dread.

 

If his ethic came to form as aesthetic, then Will’s existence was the culmination the very foundation of his way of life. Ending Will’s life would mean bringing death onto beauty, and Hannibal could never abide to do something so unspeakably ugly.

 

The world has enough of it’s mundane and ugly things, and Will was an exception to that. He must protected, nurtured, and fed, and Hannibal was eager to pick up that mantle of responsibility.

 

He remembered just how much he relished being his sister’s keeper, but despite his enthusiasm, Hannibal was too young and weak to properly protect her. Now he’s a man, and what better fate can a man ask for than a second chance to prove his worth.

 

Will was the only creature worthy of Hannibal’s love, and now Hannibal must prove himself to be worthy of his love in return.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	9. Venom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on a filed mission Will found out about an unsavory rumor that tested the limits of his patience.

“Jesus Jimmy.” Will winced and pulled away from his looming shadow. “You almost scared me to death.” His tired wings sheathed back their talons, looking somewhat disappointed that there wasn’t a real prey for them to sink into.

 

“You ok Will? You don’t look so good.” The coroner leaned in, grimacing when he saw the splatter of bile, rice, and tuna on the side of the pavement. This was supposed to be a fun outing, a team celebration after a job well done. Somehow it ends up how it always does, with Will pale faced and sick and everyone else worrying themselves sick about him.

 

“I’m fine.” Will lied, motioning towards a half-eaten poke bowl he carried with him from the night market. “My fault for letting Brian convince me into eating raw fish.”

 

“It’s a local specialty!” The man protested, looking both guilty and indignant by the accusation. “I mean, can you blame me for wanting feed him? Honestly, we’re in Hawaii and all this guy had to eat was canned coffee and lemonade.”

 

“Hey, don’t mock me and my virgin Mai Thai.” He grimaced, taking a swig from a proffered bottle of water to gargle the acrid taste away from his mouth.

 

The team have been in Oahu since last week, helping the local PD with the capture of a cult obsessed on throwing virgins into volcanos.

 

On the first few days Will was on a roll, calling out discrepancies, finding loopholes, and created a profile so complete he all but sketched the guy’s face out of thin air. Even his wings got a little bit of action. When a fairly difficult clerk refused to give him access to a local data, Will used his sharpen tips to pull down on a fire alarm so he could steal the hidden file away.

 

It was quite enjoyable until he saw a surviving victim, a girl with half her body charred from being dripped in lava.

 

He lost his lunch that day, which wasn’t surprising since almost everybody did too, but his nausea persisted even after his disgust waned. So he gave up on eating entirely, subsisting only on sugary drinks and grit alone.

 

The hunger didn’t bother him much. Afterall, he grew up missing a few meals in his days. Yet whenever his stomach would ache and twist in pain, his heart would follow suit, for the absence of food would remind him Hannibal’s too.

 

Will missed the man terribly, more than he missed his dog and his bed. Sapphire ocean greeted him wherever he looked, a beauty that many would pay a fortune to see. Yet no matter how brilian the waters were, all that he could think of was how it paled in comparison to the doctor’s quiet company and the stories he whispered under his oak tree.

 

Still, the hunger and longing couldn’t take away from the satisfaction he felt from a job well done. It felt good to contribute to the investigation, especially after his terrible performance the week before. The profile he made became pivotal to the capture of the perpetrator, a cult leader who was shot dead while resisting arrest.

 

How he wished he could’ve held that gun. Will was on the sidelines when it happened, but he could taste the blood in the air as soon as the shot was fired. Beyond the need for food, Will craved to experience the exuberant joy that a only a kill could bring.

 

Nevertheless, the knowledge that he contributed to that kill was enough to wings trill with joy even in their weakened state.

 

The dramatic close to the came spread quickly and became a local sensation. The FBI were heralded as heroes, much to the local PD’s irritation, and Will was heavily. Most of the attention fell onto Will, the genius out of towner who captured the local people’s heart with his introverted nature and pretty face.

 

Suddenly last week inadequacies were forgotten, and the polite apathy he grown used to was replaced with the public accolades and acceptance from his team.

 

Despite it’s artificial conception, it’s nice to be treated so warmly by the group, though Will much preferred Hannibal’s company to the strange sibling dynamic that the BSU has.  

 

Not that Will would know what a normal sibling dynamic would look like anyways.

 

“That poke was a terrible idea, but I would rather be here puking my guts out than be with Jack in the Governor’s mansion.” Will shivered, the thought of socializing with bureaucrats making him even more nauseated. His three companions murmured sympathetically with varying levels of understanding.

 

“Brave of you to reject Jack’s invitation. And the governor’s. And Kamehameha the Great’s.” Jimmy said glibly. Will just rolled his eyes, which only encouraged his nosy prodding. “You were basically the guest of honor, but you practically stood all three levels of authority, just like that! That takes a lot of guts you know.”

 

“Yeah well, I puked the last of mine all over the ground so I don’t know how to respond to that.” Will mumbled, feeling a tad bit guilty for leaving Jack alone. “… I don’t do well in those sort of crowds.” Will reasoned reaching into their shared cooler for a local craft beer that bore names like ‘Big Wave’, ‘Longboard’, and ‘Fire Rock’.

 

“But they serve caviar there.” Brian exclaimed, affronted by Will’s nonchalance. “Ca-vi-ar! I’m pretty sure they were going to award you with some fancy title for catching that nutso.” The man laughed, but behind his good-natured jokes Will could see the subtle hints of jealousy hidden in the staccato exclaim.

 

“If you like the idea so much then should’ve gone and taken my place then. Let Jack parade you around from one photo op to another. He chuckled when he saw Brian’s face paled at thoughts of being social with their overbearing boss. “Exactly.” Will burped, his wings dragging onto the ground as the alcohol began to enter his head.

 

He tried not to look at them too much. For a few days his wings held up fine, but as soon as he stopped eating, they’ve begun to deteriorate quite rapidly. Seeing them like made Will felt oddly guilty, like he wasn’t taking care of them as well as Hannibal would’ve liked. He didn’t want to disappoint the doctor. He was the only person who cared about him.

 

Ignorant of Will’s musing, Beverly grabbed herself a bottle of beer and shot back at the men in her team. “I get that this unit is full of weirdos, but man, you guys are lacking some serious social skills. It’s like I’m in my high school Math club all over again.“  

 

“You Katz? Mathletics? Way to play into the Asian stereotype.”

 

“You know what other Asian stereotype I fit into? Karate. Black belt. So watch your mouth Zeller.”

 

Will watched with a distant smile at the little jokes they traded with each other, happy to be around them despite the looming sense of isolation. It’s only natural for them to be closer to one another. Despite being a team, Will was still an outsider to them, the non-scientist, the weirdo that jumps into conclusion instead of scrutinizing bits of matter for empirical evidence.

 

It reminded Will why he gave up on finding friendship in the first play. No matter how hard he try he relate to people, the man always ended up in this same position, an external observer detached from the very people he wanted to connect to.

 

Back in Louisiana it was simpler. He could just cite his poverty and intellect as the barrier that stopped mediocre men from relating to him, but Will is no longer in Louisiana. Here in the FBI he was surrounded by brilliant people of all creed and backgrounds, and yet he still he stood apart from them, a lonesome island deserted and alone.

 

‘ _But that’s not completely true now, is it?’_ An accented voice cuts through his depressive thoughts, smooth and seductive in it’s familiarity.

 

As if prompted by some otherworldly power, Will’s phone buzzed to life and revealed a message from the very doctor that has wondered into his mind.

 

_-Hannibal Lecter_

_Good evening Will_

_How goes the case?_

 

Will instantly relaxed, all thoughts of isolation banished from his mind as the two lines of text pulled him back from despair.

 

_-Me_

_Evening._

_We got him._

_Cant tell you much, still technically an open case._

_Look out news for Hawaiian cults._

_-Hannibal Lecter_

_Congratulations Will_

_I will keep an eye out for news of your heroics_

_Does that mean you will be back in time to share a meal with me?_

_-Me_

_You sure you want me eating you out of house and home?_

_Again?_

_-Hannibal Lecter_

_I make enough money for that to not be an issue_

Will laughed, wings creating a little breeze as they fluttered in delight. As someone who grew up poor, that line should’ve rubbed him sore right in his ego, but coming from Hannibal, the statement felt less like an arrogant joke and more of a serious answer.

 

Still, his fingers hovered over keys as he considered a few little jabs that would take the doctor down a peg or two, but his plans crumbled into dust when the next came.

 

_-Hannibal Lecter_

_Dearest Will_

_Do hurry back_

_I sorely miss our conversations_

_-Me_

_Yeah, I miss y|_

Will frowned and immediately deleted the over eager sentence.

_Yea Me2._

 

“Cute girl?” Jimmy peered over with a smile while Brian and Beverly rolled their eyes.

 

“Ten bucks it’s just his pet sitter sending him pictures of his dog.” Brian scowled, taking out a crisp bill from his already empty wallet.

 

“Ten bucks he’s texting a _he.”_ Beverly slapped down a her own money bill onto the closed cooler.

 

“Ohh, I like those odds.” Jimmy patted his pockets down for some change. “Ten bucks it’s his pet sitter _and_ he’s dating her! _”_

They all turned to him expectantly, hands ready to grab onto the pile of cash in victory. Will blinked, his face flat and unimpressed.

 

“It’s just Doctor Lecter asking to confirm an appointment.” He muttered, but even to his own ears the half truth sounded like a complete lie.

 

“Ahhh.” The group hummed in unison. Beverly cackled in victory, picked up her winnings, and tucked it in into her pants. Will groaned and rolled his eyes in reply to Jimmy’s delighted stare and Brian much more somber one.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”’ They said as they traded each other knowing looks.

 

“Good job bagging him Will. I hear he’s loaded.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Beverly laughed at Will’s indignation. “ Hey it’s okay. The bureau is very progressive in this regard. I’m sure Jack will still shit on you whether you’re gay or straight.”

 

“I’m not- We’re not-“ Will’s nervous gze darted from one expectant eyes to another. “No.”

 

“Really? Then why was Alana raising such a stink about you two last week?” Brian said accusingly.

 

“She did?” Will’s heart dropped. “What did she say?”

 

“Well not much. I just overheard them talking-“

 

“- _arguing_ , more like. It’s basically turned into a very polite sparring match! I never seen anyone shout at Jack like that.” Jimmy withered under Beverly sharp look. “Sorry.”

 

“You’re joking. Alana Bloom?”

 

“Yeah. It’s nothing serious. She just told jack that it’s inappropriate for shirnks to have an affair with their patient, especially an FBI sanctioned one.” Beverly explained, as if it would make everything any less mortifying.

“Well we’re not doing that.” Will said defiantly. “And even if we did have an” he swallowed around the words. “- _affair-”_ He hissed. “It wouldn’t be frowned upon since he’s technically not my doctor.”

 

“Ha! Well alrighty. Beverly is technically not my boss, but it doesn’t stop her from ridding my ass- Ow!” Brian gaped at the red mark she slapped onto his forearm. “You just slapped me!”

 

“Just be careful Will.” Beverly motioned. “There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of fun and all, but if you’re not discreet but people’s reputation could reputation could be ruined.”

 

“I don’t have a reputation to ruin.” He replied, confused at the whole exchange and irritated beyond belief.

 

“She’s not talking about you genius.” Brian pipped, which earned him another slap from Jimmy to match the one Beverly gave him. “I’m just saying that he doesn’t care about those sort of things. Christ, leave me alone!”

 

Will frowned as his wings fidgeted unhappily at their accusations. Just as he was ready to make up some plausible deniability, his phone buzzed and everyone’s eyes instantly went to it. The man scowled and turned around, hiding his text from prying eyes.

 

_-Hannibal Lecter_

_I look forward to your return, my dear_

Upon reading that short sweet message, Will slid the phone back down into his pocket, guilt instantly swallowing the brief pleasure that Hannibal’s text brought on.

 

“It’s my dog sitter.” He lied and this time they were courteous enough to pretend to believe him.

 

**

 

The return flight was as uneventful as it was unpleasant. Everybody except him and Jack was nursing a hangover, quietly suffering behind their shades and pitiful grunts.  After last night’s terrible bonding experience, Will was glad for the silence, and for once Jack was satisfied enough with his performance that he left him in peace instead of hounding him with details of the ripper.

 

Still, being in such a tightly enclosed space did nothing to help his already messed up headspace. Everywhere he looked there were new wells of mind to jump into, a potential hole to lose himself in other people. The only reprieve was the clouds outside, a sight that made his wings twitch in interest. They’re like little puppies passing through a dog park, pulling on the leash so they could run free with their friends outside.

 

He wished Hannibal was there to settle him and his wings down. Will was wound up to the point of exhaustion, and the thought of the two-hour drive from Quantico to his home made him want to curl up into a ball and just sleep.

 

‘ _Maybe I could crash at Hannibal’s.’_ He wondered quietly before he is lulled to sleep by the slow moving clouds.

 

***

 

They arrived just as the Academy was closing, the building empty as they deposited the last of their reports and guns. Somehow Will got roped into the Director’s office for a verbal commendation and a promise for a real one in the near future.

 

“There’s really no need.” Will frowned, confused as why they’re making such fuss over something that all agent was expected to do. “I was just doing your job.”

 

“It’s still a high-profile case and you saved a lot of people in a short amount of time.” Jack smiled down at him and patted his shoulders. “You should be proud with yourself Will. Without your profile, we would’ve still thought it was a single serial killer instead of a cult.”

 

“Yeah. Well.” Will looked away, still uncomfortable by the special attention people gave him. He knew that they meant well, but everything that happened  only served to highlight his difference from every else. It’s like he’s a civilian that needs to be awarded for helping the police.

 

‘ _Well you are. You’re just a special agent, emphasis on the special.’_

Will knew this, of course, but the reminder still stung badly.

 

“Thanks Jack.” He quietly relents, backing down just so Jack would stop convincing him that he’s right. The man nodded and stared him intensely, and for a moment Will thought his piercing eyes could see the sloping shapes of his wings. “Jack?”

 

“Nothing. Go and rest for the weekend Will. You deserve it.” He said with hint of fatherly affection before leaving him alone in his empty class.

 

In another life maybe Will could’ve looked up at him as more than just the overbearing boss who’s willing to push him until he breaks. Maybe they could even have a symbiotic relationship, as mentor and student. For now, they’re stuck in this difficult path, bound together by an obligation to justice and a shared disregard for his mental health.

 

Will fell onto his seat in the class, trying to unwound his mind from images of volcanoes, burning flesh, and the very real possibility of Jack’s disappointment.

 

A knock on the door pulled Will away from his thoughts.

 

“I hear congratulations are in order.” Alana smiles as she peered into his classroom. Casual elegance clung to her like a scent to a flower, and Will couldn’t help but stare at her with the flutter of a grown man looking at his childhood crush. “People wont stop talking about how great you were in Hawaii. I just have to see the hero for myself.”

 

Will chuckled and rubbed his eyes, completely aware of how terribly put together he currently were. “Well, here I am.” He smiled, happy for that brief moment of connection where someone seek him out for his company and nothing else.

 

Suddenly the air that once extoled her praises turned heavy as suspicion and insecurity seeped into her mind. “You look good Will. How’s Hannibal doing?” She asked cheerily as if it would hide her jealousy. It was unbearably ugly to see, and Will had to consciously stop himself from retching in disgust.

 

“You should know Alana, aren’t you the one who makes a habit to casually dropping by his house?” Will asked, not even hiding his tired disbelief. Alana flushed at the insinuation his words brought.

 

“We’re just good friends Will. We have been like that since he was my teacher.” She gently explained, hoping that it would be enough to pull herself from the corner she put herself into. “You don’t have to worry about me and Hannibal.”

 

“Why should I be worry?” Will sighed, already tired of this silly little exchange.

 

“Because you and Hannibal are… ‘involved’ aren’t you?” To her credit Alana did look rather apologetic, but it still wasn’t enough to curb Will’s irritation.

 

“Look Alana, nothing is going on between Hannibal and me, so I would appreciate it if you don’t go around the office complaining about it to my boss.” Will smield at her surprise. “The whole team heard about your little ‘discussion’ with Jack. I had to hear about it from them in Hawaii.” He scoffed and turned around to gather up his belongings. “It was quite embarrassing actually. It feels like being outed to the public without actually being gay.”

 

As tender hearted and kind as Alana was, something he said struck at her pride and made her defensive and stubborn. “I’m sorry Will, but I would be doing you both a disservice if I let Hannibal make a habit of sleeping with his patients.”

 

“Jesus Christ Alana. Really?”

 

“Yes. Really. It maybe just a fling to you, but the board takes these sorts of things very seriously. Hannibal could lose his license! As his friend I can’t just sit back and let him destroy his reputation like that.”

 

“Well isn’t he lucky to have such a caring friend like you.” He muttered, hurt by the way she reduced him into a set of risk of Hannibal to avoid. “But aren’t you also supposed to be my friend Alana?” he asked, too tired to even mask the pain from his voice. “Aren’t friends supposed to believe and support each other? So why is so hard to believe me when I say that there’s nothing going on between us?”

 

His words hung heavy on Alana’s shoulders like a snake slowly coiling around her body. Alana was a good girl, and she goes through life believing that fact. It fueled the very best side of her, the gentle champion to the downtrodden, but it also made her blind to her own inadequacies and failings.

 

“Will… I-“ She pleaded.

 

A blessed ding broke the silence and drew Will’s disappointed gaze away from the woman.

 

_-Hannibal Lecter_

_Good evening Will_

_I’m here to pick you up_

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” She said, reaching over to touch Will’s arm but drew back at the last second. “I never thought we’re even friends. You’re just so closed off that I-“

 

“It’s fine.” The man interrupted a bitter smile. He wasn’t interested in hearing yet another reason why he was difficult to connect to. “I’m not angry. I’m sure your intention were coming from the right place.” He said despite knowing truth.

 

Alana paled and just nodded. Will hated hurting her like this, because no matter how terribly she behaved, he would’ve enjoyed having her as a friend.

 

“I have to go. My ride is here.” The man shrugged on his coat and waved his phone in goodbye.  Alana caught sight of the name on the screen and grabbed at Will’s arm, stopping him from leaving entirely.

“Is it Hannibal?” She asked, her guilt and shame taking a backseat as her jealousy took over again.

 

Her touch drew rage from the very core of his being. His eyes prickled and stung, as he felt the corruption of her touch spreading through his mind. Listless wings came to attention and turned rigid, talons sliding out like a glinting scythe, ready to harvest her presumptuous little head and empty it of the brain she wasn’t using.

 

Another buzz on his phone snapped Will away from his dark fantasies, anchoring him to reality. They both turned to glance at it, Alana wearing an expression betrayal as she Hannibal’s name flashing on the screen.

 

_-Hannibal Lecter_

_I hope you’re hungry_

 

He knew that the message would only serve to spur on their misunderstanding, but Will wouldn’t help but smiled it’s timely arrival. Even in his absence Hannibal was still there for him, reigning in his darker impulses and preventing him from succumbing to his worst.

 

Suddenly it doesn’t matter that he couldn’t fit into his team, or that he was bound to disappoint Jack, or the death of his budding friendships. He had Hannibal, and the man was enough.

 

“You know Alana, since you don’t see us as friends and you’re not my psychiatrist, I think we’re done discussing my personal life.” Will gave her a thin smile and gently detangled her fingers from his wrist. His wings gave a pleased little huff and folded back onto themselves, saving their strength so they could show off for a more deserving audience.

 

 

***

 

In the empty Quantico parking lot Hannibal sensed the otherworldly breeze tickling the surface of his skin even before he heard Will approach. “Will.” His cordial tone turning generous and warm as he turned to face the man.

 

“Damn. And I thought I could sneak up on you.” Will grinned childishly, but the smile was wiped clean from his face when Hannibal’s strong hand drew him into a tender hug.

 

“Welcome home.” Hannibal murmured against his hair, pulling away for propriety sake despite wishing he could hide the man away in his arms forever.

 

Embolden by his touch, Will fell back into Hannibal’s embrace like a wayward bird returning to it’s nest. He was just so tired, weakened by a week of isolation and disconnect.

 

His hands wrapped underneath the man’s perfectly pressed jacket and caught onto the delicate stitching on his vest. “Hi.” Will murmured, more towards Hannibal’s tie than to the man himself.

 

“Hello my dear.” Hannibal replied with a chuckle, smoothing the wrinkled shirt that Will slept in since last night. “And hello to you too little ones.” The man chuckled when Will’s wings trilled, caressing the strong arch that hid his sharp talons. “Come now, let me see them.”

 

Feeling strangely self-conscious about the state of his wings Will pulled away and considered refusing the man’s request. After a second of contemplation, Will unfurled his wings and showed it to Hannibal anyway, knowing that the man was as attached to them as a father was to their children.

 

For a long while Hannibal said nothing and just stared at them in quiet shock. Solid façade trembled like scaffolding an earthquake as they struggled to contain the turbulent waves of emotions churning inside of him. Will almost balked at the sheer intensity of it, but his wings cradled themselves around Hannibal, starved for his attention

 

“I bought you a present.” Will pipped up, hoping to distract Hannibal from the obvious molt gaps in his pin feathers. “I know you brew your own beer and there’s a funny little company that makes craft ales and-“

 

“Will.” The man interrupted with his dangerously low voice. “Would you care to tell me why you never mentioned the state of your deteriorating health?”

 

Will winced at the calm accusation. “Because I’m fine. I mean I’m tired but it’s nothing, really.” He said, trying to fold his wings but the little traitors clung onto Hannibal and fluttered pathetically in his hands. “Okay, they’re being dramatic little shits. I swear they’re fine, they’re just molting-“

 

“They’re dying Will.” The man stated simply. He turned Will towards the shiny surface of his Bentley and cradled them up. “Look. Look at how they suffer.” He said. Will’s eyes remain trained onto the ground.

 

“I… they’re not.” He replied weakly, pulling them into his arms co he could clutch them close to his chest. Incensed by the man’s willfulness, Hannibal grabbed onto his barely visible talons and forcibly yanked it up.

 

“Hey!” Will cried out, blindsided by Hannibal’s rough tug.

 

This was not the kind, nurturing man that made him feel safe and protected. Asura stood behind him, a demon of passion and wrath, happy to take up violence so he may lay down Will’s bloodied body and piece him back according to his image.

  
Will should be afraid of the sudden change. It’s never safe to trust a duplicitous man, especially one that hid such dangerous whims behind a harmless smile. Yet despite knowing better, a small neglected part of himself couldn’t help but sob in relief.

 

For the first time since his mother left, someone cared enough about him to be angry. That moved him more than any commendation or fleeting friendship ever could.

 

He knew that Hannibal was being downright poisonous and manipulative, but Will accepted the pain so he could savor the singular pleasure of being wanted. The fact that he would see such venom as love spoke to the distorted state of his lonesome mind, but if it meant he could forever be cherished like this, then Will was more than happy to imbibe his cup of poison like a drunkard takes his wine.

 

“Look.” Hannibal barked, grabbing onto Will’s chin and forcibly raised his gaze.

 

Obsidian surface reflected a picture that cuts deep into his veins. His wings had grown in size, but it has lost much of it’s rich plumage that it looked smaller than it was last week. Gaps appeared where solid feathers were supposed to be, like petals plucked for the amusement of a cruel child. Some shaft were broken and crooked, revealing dried up veins of blood that used to bring life into each feathers. There’s even patches of skin visible, stretched so thin that he could see the shadow of Hannibal’s arm from behind it’s translucent gleam.

 

It was a truly horrific sight, which was why Will tried his best to avoid looking at them in the first place.

 

Satisfied but not yet assuaged, Hannibal finally released his talons so Will could see the damage he incurred in his carelessness. The man faintly noticed the blood welling on his palm. He had cut himself on the sharp talon.

 

“You’re hurt.” Will quietly said, wanting to reach out and see to Hannibal’s wound but was too afraid of being rejected by Hannibal. After the week he had, he couldn’t bear losing the only good relationship he had.

 

The man sighed and just shook his head. ‘ _You should just kill me dearest, and spare me the anguish of seeing such a sight again.’_ Hannibal wanted to say. Instead he ignored Will’s worried glances, unknotted his tie, and tied up his wound with practiced ease.

 

With movement that betrayed the rage boiling inside him, Hannibal trudged over to the passenger door of his car and threw it open. “Inside.” He ordered.

 

“Hannibal, I-“

 

“I will not repeat myself.” The doctor said without even sparing him a glance.

 

With cheeks burning with humiliation and eyes blotching with black, Will obeyed and curled up into himself, wincing Hannibal slammed the car door shut.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Will’s condition unraveled Hannibal’s person suit, and giving will a glimpse of the monster within.

Crimson began to seep through silk and smudge its coppery essence against Hannibal’s indubitably expensive steering wheel. From their many interactions, Will knew that the doctor hated messes such as these, but somehow he knew that if he spoke up about it, the man would not be as receptive as he usually was

 

Hannibal was hurt, guilty, and beyond angry, but for the life of him Will couldn’t exactly pinpoint why.

 

The pounding in his head increased as Hannibal’s anger ebbed and flowed. His empathy has always worked in overdrive when he’s with Hannibal, trying to pick up on the miniscule clues on the man’s severely perfect façade. Now that Hannibal wasn’t hiding them anymore, Will felt like he was listening to a rock concert though a stethoscope he couldn’t pull off.

 

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry.” He mumbled, rubbing his furrowed brows to ease up on the pressure building there. “You’re acting like I slept with your wife or something. God.”

 

A sharp intake of breath was heard, and Will instantly regret saying something so blithely like that.

 

“You stubborn, reckless, dishonest _boy_.“ Hannibal finally spoke out, words carrying all the righteous anger of an avenging angel. Will, however, was not impressed by his choice of words.

“What the fuck Hannibal. You don’t get to talk to me like that.” He growled back, more out of pride than anger and Hannibal saw right through his defenses, for his wings didn’t even stir along with him.

 

“I will talk to you in the same manner you’re behaving. Mindless.” He flicked open the blinker. “Petulant.” He turned and parked his car smoothly into his driveway. “-and Childish.” Hannibal slammed onto the brake, jarring them both against the restraint of their seatbelts.

 

‘ _Ironic_.’ Will thought almost, but he refrained from speaking them out for it will only proved Hannibal’s argument to be true.

 

“Your folly could’ve costed you your life.” Hannibal continued. “Why didn’t you tell me you were _wasting_ away? Do you understand just how little we know about your new condition? This could be a precursor of something much more serious, like an illness or an infection-“

 

“It’s not.” Will interrupted, all curt and abrupt. Hannibal looked like he might murder him with his glares alone. “I just haven’t been eating. That’s all.”

 

The doctor’s severe face remained unchanged, petrified in an expression so foreign to the man that it dug into Will’s skin like winding briars.

 

“… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Will finally muttered, fidgeting in his seat. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

 

“You-“ The older man stopped himself before he could say something he couldn’t take back. Instead, he settled on focusing on the road before him, continuing the spaces between his heart beats so he may think of something else other that how angry he was at that moment.

 

For a while the two remained inside, listening to the faint click of the turn signal Hannibal was too distracted to turn off. It reminded Will to much of the pendulum that swung every time he worked, but when he reach over to flip off the switch, Hannibal grabbed his hand, his touch so unbearably hot that it froze Will in his tracks.

 

“…I care a great deal for you Will.” The man said, doctoring as much gentleness into his voice as he could, but his voice still held an edge of danger to it, seeping out of his torn-up person suit. Will didn’t feel safe, but his dangerous company was so intoxicating that Will couldn’t pulled himself out of his sphere.

 

As if the man could sense Will’s apprehension, Hannibal pulled away, his hand hovering over Will’s sore wrist before gently soothing it with a massage. “I would like to apologize for speaking to you in that manner. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me.” The man chuckled dryly. “Your health, your happiness… they affect me more than you know, Will.”

 

“Maybe you should try caring less, Doctor.”

 

“It would be like asking a sparrow to cease singing it’s song, or a fish to live on land.” Hannibal smiled. “I simply wouldn’t know how to do that.”

 

Will swallowed hard and nodded, unsure of how to respond to such an intense confession. When Hannibal hand move to caress his cheek, the man closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, all transgressions forgiven, for it was impossible for a man who gives second chances to strays to not also a afford such luxury to his one and only friend.

 

With much reluctance on both party, the two men eventually parted and exited the vehicles, eyes looking everywhere but towards each other.

 

“Thank you for picking me up.” Will said more towards his feet than to Hannibal. “I can just wait outside for a cab.”

 

“Nonsense. You will stay here for the night and that will be the end of it.” The man replied. Just to drive his point home, he fetched Will’s luggage and set it inside his home. “Please Will, do come inside.” He said, finally managing to contain the beast back inside, but it was too late. Will has caught a glimpse at it’s gleaming teeth.

 

For a moment Will considered abandoning his possession altogether and just start walking away. The way Hannibal was acting confused immensely. The man has always been a beacon of stability in his turbulent life, so to see him so unhinged was more unnerving than seeing the Ripper’s crime scene. It was as if the fundamental truth of his world was shaken, and Will had to realized that even the great Hannibal Lecter was as infallible as other human was.

 

 On one side, Will found his lapse in control absolutely endearing, but the paranoid part of himself wanted to shy away. If the good doctor couldn’t be trusted with his emotions, then would it even be wise to trust him with sanctity of his mind?

 

If Will chose to walk away, he was sure that he’ll lose Hannibal’s friendship forever, but at least he will be faced with familiar problems of loneliness and isolation. They were simple, familiar things that had accompanied him all his life. And returning to them wouldn not be so terrible, because at least he’ll know about them intimately.

 

But Hannibal? Will could spend a thousand years with him and still find new layers under his many facades. Hannibal would never truly be transparent with him, it’s just not in his nature to do so. After seeing his wrathful burst of anger, Will wondered that perhaps the impenetrable defenses Hannibal erected were not made to defend against outside forces, but to contain something dangerous within himself.

 

A sane man would’ve run after experiencing such profound epiphany, so Will must’ve been out of his mind, for his feet carried him inside the lair of the beast, uncaring of the dangers lurking within.

 

It doesn’t matter if he was to be swallowed whole but dispatched into pieces. Losing Hannibal was just not something Will was willing to consider.

 

“… You’re too much sometimes Doctor, have anybody ever told you that?” Will mumbled as he brushed past the man in a weak attempt at a reproach. Hannibal only inclined his head in acknowledgement, as remorseful as Will was angry.

 

“You gave me no choice my dear. You have a terrible habit of pushing people away.” The older man grabbed onto Will’s shoulders, cupping his cheeks so he would finally meet his eyes. “You will not be rid of me that easily.” He promised,

 

The declaration should’ve sound strange to his ear, ominous even. His crossed the boundary of friendship and borders on dangerous obsession, but Will didn’t want to believe that. The enigmatic doctor was the only one who truly knows him, who helped him through his surreal birth, fed him, and accepted him after. That fact alone was enough to drown Will in an ocean of gratitude, and with each receding wave, he felt himself sinking deeper into the sand, an inch closer into the sea.

 

 

**

 

 

“Please don’t trouble yourself.” Will muttered when Hannibal ushered him to sit in front of the fireplace. The man shot him a look that made Will feel like he was the one being unreasonable when Hannibal was the one who al but nudged his body to collapse into the fashionable settee.

 

Still, Will was too tired to care about it, especially when the sofa in question was leagues more comfortable than his own bed. Like an overindulgent cat, Will stretched his six limbs and relaxes on the seat, his wings fluttering before draping over his slender figure like a cape. For a moment Hannibal just stared at him, his arms laden with logs he was supposed to light up.

 

“They’ve grown.” He said in surprise, taking a moment to coax the logs alight before returning his full attention to his lounging guest. “How fascinating.”

 

“I wouldn’t know.” Will shrugged, yawning and nestling his head against the soft arm of the seat. “Too focused on the case.”

 

“If I had known you were too busy to eat, I would’ve been happy to fly over and force my company onto you.”

 

Will scoffed. “For a meal?”

 

“Yes. At least three times. A day. That is what most healthcare practitioner would recommend.”

 

“Huh. You don’t say.”

 

Hannibal sighed. “Your aversion to healthy, regular meals astounds me. It’s completely unreasonable, given how much food you usually put away at my table.”

 

“Unreasonable, huh?” Will hummed cheekily. “Says the man who would fly over to goddamn Oahu just to feed me.”

 

“Not just you.” Hannibal said, seating at Will’s feet so he could reach out to touch his wings. At first Will almost bolted up and cursed the man out, but then he saw the sentimental look he had those mesmerizing eyes, one so sweet and unguarded that it left him breathless just from seeing them alone.

 

“Hello little ones. You’ve grown so much since I last saw you.” The doctor greeted his wings like they were his own children.

 

Fragile feathers rose up to meet Hannibal’s touch, missing his touch as much as he missed them.

 

“Could you forgive me for being so ghastly earlier? I should only be kind and gentle to you, shouldn’t I?”

 

Each individual plumage seemed to wave in furious agreement, accusing the man while forgiving him with their simple song. The doctor chuckled and nodded in understanding, placating their rustling with even more of his intoxicating touches.

 

“I know my dears, I know. Not to worry, we’ll sort you out properly soon, won’t we?”

 

They continued on for a while, the soft exchange between murmurs and rustling lulling Will into a languid sense relaxation. Eventually Hannibal bid them goodbye, promising a feast for them tomorrow before mentioning something about pork and shrimp wontons to his drowsy guest.

 

Will replied sleepily about Hannibal being too much, that he shouldn’t trouble himself, but he doubt the man could hear him underneath his wings excited little warble.

 

After a brief interlude Will began giggling deliriously towards himself, clasping his hand to smother in his cackling laughs, praying that the doctor wouldn’t hear him and have him committed to a mental institution.

 

How silly of him to even let fear taint his perception like that. It’s true that Hannibal  may have some hidden layers underneath him, but that doesn’t immediately mean that he shared the same madness as the psychopaths Will sees in his work. For one Hannibal had boundless amount of empathy. In fact, his need to take care of Will was so immense that it practically it spilled out of him like sand through curled fingers.

 

So what if Hannibal wasn’t just this harmless doctor he pretend he was? Maybe the man did have some darkness inside of him, a capacity for violence Will knew too well not to hide. Who was he to judge, especially when he wakes up every day and contend with his own grasping monsters?

 

If anything, it makes them kindred spirits, a brand of men who choose to walk in the light rather than succumbing to the seductive shadows of their minds. Perhaps that was why he felt so at home in the lair of this so-called beast. They were one and the and the same.

 

Will used to hate acknowledging his dark tendencies, thinking that by naming them out loud he might give them agency to act in the world. Such fears were unfounded, for Hannibal was living proof that man can triumph over his own nature. If he could make peace and live with his own darkness, then perhaps Will also do it as well.

 

The knowledge eased his long-held fear and comforted Will’s troubled mind. He wasn’t alone in this. Maybe just maybe, if he’s with Hannibal the maybe Will needn’t be so afraid of himself anymore.

 

Frolicking flames swayed and danced in front of his closing eyes, shrouding him with heat that paled against the warmth of Hannibal’s embrace. He could see himself here in some unnamed future, nesting in front of a hearth, protected by a beast as dangerous as he was. Safe. Warm. Maybe even loved.

 

 

**

 

 

A gentle touch woke Will from his shallow slumber, though his eyes wanted nothing more than to close and commit itself into temporary oblivion. “I’m up.” He yawned.

 

“Hush. Go to back to sleep. I’ll carry you upstairs.”

 

“No, I’m not a child. I can walk.” Will grumbled, all grouchy no matter how early it was in the day. A delicious scent caught his nose and made his stomach grumble in interest. “You cooked.” He stated, rubbing at his eyes vigorously.

 

“I did. Now, lets get you to bed, yes?” The doctor said, leading Will towards the stairs.

 

“No. Imma eat your food.” Will mumbled, forcing himself awake with practiced tenacity. The doctor looked on, knowing very well that Will was pushing himself to his limits for other people’s approval. ‘ _Again.’_ He thought disapprovingly, though the thought of Will wanting to please him took the edge off his irritation.

 

“It’s quite fine Will. The food will keep until morning.” Hannibal tried to dissuade him again.

 

“No. You cooked. I’ll eat it.”

 

“If you’re sure.” The doctor finally relented.

 

“Yes. I. am. I’m. Eating. It.” Will declared with each stomping steps, slumping over the counter seat with a victorious grin, proud of himself for winning over some inane argument. “What am I eating again?” he blinked comically.

 

“Wontons, you silly boy.” Hannibal chuckled. On other people Hannibal would’ve though such gloating to be crass and uncouth, but the smile on Will’s face was so incredibly charming he couldn’t care less about his manners altogether. “You’re as stubborn as a mule.” The man declared, garnishing a steaming bowl of soup with chives and sesame oil before serving it along with his teasing words.

 

“Hmm.” Will absentmindedly hummed, clumsy finger almost dropping the strange short ceramic spoon. “Wait, did you just call me a jackass?”

 

The only answer he received was a secretive, albeit exasperated smile. “My dearest Will, please do be quiet and eat your soup.”

 

 

***

 

 

Though the hot soup made it impossible for him to simply gulp everything down, Will still ate ravenously. He bit into the neat little pleated parcels, yelping at how “Hot! Hssss! Hot!” they were before repeating it with the rest of the bowl. After Will burned his tongue for the fifth time in a row, Hannibal finally took pity on the man and poured him a tall glass of chilled soy and sesame milk.

 

“Carry on like this and someday you will be the death of me.” Hannibal sighed, though he couldn’t hide away the fond little smile that always crop up every time he saw the man eating his food.

 

Will grumbled something nondescript as a reply, too busy with the dumplings to properly answer Hannibal’s little jests. When he finished the last of his dumplings, he finally looked up to the man and acknowledge him properly. Hannibal raised an eyebrow in amusement

 

“Yes?” He asked, drawing out each syllable, expecting Will to use his words properly.

 

At least the man had the decency to look sheepish before pushing his empty bowl toward him. Hannibal waited. “Um… can I have some more?“ Will mumbled. “Please?” he added for good measure.

 

“Yes you may.” Hannibal answered, already ladling a new bowl for Will, this time with less broth a much more generous serving of wontons.

 

“It’s good.” Will said, finally praising the man now that his mouth was not too busy chewing endlessly. “The filling is so springy and savory. I never had meat like that.”

 

“It’s because of the combination of shrimp and pork.” Hannibal said proudly, replaying the moment he killed the careless young man who didn’t wipe down his sweat from the weight machine. How he managed to get into Hannibal’s exclusive gym was beyond him, but at least with him in Will’s belly, the place would return to it’s old sanitary standards. “Don’t burn your tongue again.”

 

Will nodded and raised his spoon, taking Hannibal’s advice and began blowing on the slippery dumplings before throwing it completely into his mouth. As one need was sated, another took over. With his belly filled and Will’s eyes began to close even as he was cheering his mouthful of wontons.

 

“Will?” Hannibal asked, his voice jolting the younger man awake. “My dear, you’re falling asleep into your bowl.”

 

Will blinked, and stared down at the steaming bowl of food. He’s so tired that he’s losing the motivating to eat altogether.

 

“Are you done?”

 

Will nodded, pushing the bowl away with a pout.

 

“What do we say, now?”

 

“Hannibal.” Will whined, rubbing his eyes until they turned black. “Hannibal.” The man repeated, his voice taking on an unearthly dimension to them. Will turned to him with outstretched arms calling his name in a thousand demonic voices.

 

“Ah, there you are.” Hannibal smiled, happy that Will had finally let go and regressed into his baser animal self.

 

As much as he enjoyed the man’s sharp wits and rough charms, Hannibal preferred to be around this unbridled side of him. When his eyes turned black, Will experience everything in such pure rawness that Hannibal could almost taste the untouched innocence in him, as well as the delicious danger the man held just beneath his skin.

 

Someday they will reach a point where they can be honest with each other that Will needn’t to revert to such primitive state of mind. Such intimacy takes time, and for now Hannibal was satisfied with the man’s captivating duality.

 

“Come here my dear. Let me take care of you.” Hannibal said, pulling the man into his arms and carrying him effortlessly up into the stairs. Somewhere along the way Will had wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist and nuzzled against the side of his face, refusing to let go even after they arrived on his bed.

 

“Behave now.” Hannibal chided, laying Will on his side and taking care not to crush his delicate wings in the process. Hannibal’s guest bedroom smelled like a hotel and not enough like the man himself. Will crunched his nose and growled, hating being left at some foreign smelling face.

 

Will finally let go and sunk into the soft mattress, his mind growing hazier by the minute as Hannibal fuss over taking off his shoes, watch and glasses. The doctor considered taking off Will’s pants, just so he could be more comfortable of course, but he immediately decided against it as he remembered his early lapse in control.

 

It would be unwise to put himself in a situation that would further test his resolve. Hannibal was confident in himself and his control, but for some reason being around Will made Hannibal feel unmoored, like a boat slowly drifting along into the quiet sea. He became so used to suppressing his lackadaisical emotions he wasn’t ready to hold back the rage he felt upon seeing Will’s withering wings.

 

His reaction was so visceral and raw that it tore through his meticulously constructed person suit. For a second his beast leapt out into the world, eager to tear and bite. At that moment Hannibal didn’t care that Will could glimpse into his darkness. The man was angry, more at himself for failing his duty after promising to take care of Will.

 

The last time he felt so unhinged was when the soldiers took Mischa away from his shackled hands. _‘Never again.’_ The man thought darkly. He has pledged to protect this singularly unique creature, and he will not fail in his vows again.

 

When Hannibal looked up he caught Will’s eyes watching him in quiet contemplation, no longer black, but brilliantly white with piercing blues that glisten with tears.

 

“Will.” The doctor gasped, instinctively reaching up to wipe away the his tears.

 

“Why do you even bother with me?” The man asked, holding onto Hannibal’s hand and cradling it like it was the most precious thing he has ever touched.

 

“Because beauty is it’s own reward.” Hannibal answered honestly, chuckling when Will but frowned at him in disbelief. “Now sleep my stubborn little mule.” The man whispered, kissing the back of Will’s hand until they unclenched from his and returned to their malleable little digits.

 

“Oh.” Will chuckled as he anointed his knuckles with kisses. “I see it now. You’re one of those men fathers warned their kids about.” He murmured. “The one with the nice face and the pretty words that makes you feel like the most important person in the world.”

_‘You are.’_ Hannibal thought, wishing he could whisper it onto the man’s furrowed brows and kiss his sleepy little frown. Instead he asked, “Oh? Pray tell, what sort of man am I, dearest?”

 

“Dangerous.” Will yawned before finally succumbing to sleep.

 

***

 

As he lay in his empty bed, Hannibal dreamed of hosting a feast of imperial proportions.

 

The table was set, but his plate remained empty. His usual acquaintances sat alongside of him, cutting into blocks marble and crunching on gems. Jack, Alana, even people from his past were all in attendance. His left side occupied by old Uncle Robertus and his venerable Aunt Murasaki, and on his right was his father, mother, and beloved sister. They all praised him on his cooking, bleeding from their mouths as they gnashed their teeth against the cold rocks in their plates.

 

“What a waste.” Hannibal said out loud, and his sister looked up to him, gnawing on their mother’s pearls until her milk tooth feel out and clattered noisily onto the table. He didn’t even feel sad when he saw it happen.

 

Slowly all of their faces began to melt off like some inconsequential scenery through a car window. Hannibal watched it with bored fascination, features dripping off into a puddle until he couldn’t make out which person was his family and which was the bleating sheep of Baltimore elite.

 

It didn’t matter. They were all just meat to him.

 

“Hannibal.” Called a man, his voice cutting through the tedium like a ray of sunshine through a raincloud.

 

Will was sitting on the other end of the table, his plate as empty as his was. “Feed me.” He demanded.

 

“Silly boy. You’re surrounded by food. Go. Eat. Feast on them.” Hannibal declared, but Will shook his head.

  
He climbed onto the table and walked over to him, kicking priceless treasures that stood in his path as he cleared his own way through the inedible feast. His wings rose behind him, talons as large as scythes, looping the heads of his guest. No one was spared, not even little faceless Mischa.

 

When he arrived before him Will smiled and dropped onto all fours, arching his back like a panther as he rubbed his bloodied cheek against Hannibal’s, an animal scenting another.

 

“But I want to eat you.” He whined, all petulant and sweet like he always was.

 

“Anything for you my dearest.” Hannibal sighed, climbing onto the table to join him, divesting himself of his meticulously constructed suit so he was as bare as the day he was born.

 

Will sighed and laid him down, the table now a stage, an altar dripping with blood and semen.  Suddenly Hannibal was overcome with the need to break his own ribs, just so Will might have an easier time finding his heart. It was excruciating in the most delightful way, but when he reached into his, he found himself completely hollow.

 

An amused chuckle escaped Will’s lips. “What are you doing? It’s already here, silly.” He hummed, rubbing the flat expanse of his stomach. With viscera laded Hannibal reached over and touched him, feeling the thrumming of his heart in the man’s belly, stronger than ever.

 

“Its there. It’s alive.” He sobbed without knowing the reason why. Will laughed and grinded down onto his erection, his own cock hard and leaking as they gyrated against each other’s body. Pleasured moan and grunts filled the endless hall, so raw and pure it sounded like an animal’s mating call

 

“Please. Please put it inside.” Will begged, as desperate as he was. Hannibal growled and grabbed onto Will’s waist, trusting into the unbearably tight heat, pounding him over and over until blood streamed down their thighs like a mare’s oozing slick. Ecstasy was written all over Will’s face as he begged, writhed, and fucked himself to completion on Hannibal’s painfully hard cock.

 

“They will see your majesty.” Hannibal crooned, thrusting up into sated man as he chased his own climax. “I will make them all see.”

 

He came into his beloved with a soundless cry. Will’s wings growing so large it eclipsed the sun, the moon, the stars. They were all that Hannibal could see, and it was beautiful.

 

 

**

 

 

When morning came Hannibal woke up in a cocoon of white feathers. Will was tucked in sweetly against the curve of Hannibal’s arm, they’re both still clothed with their erection pushing hard against their pants. The doctor froze, his resolve already tested not a second into his morning.

 

To distract himself from the delectable tent in Will’s jeans, Hannibal tried to guess whether he had fallen asleep in Will’s bed or if the man sneaked into his instead. Try as much as he could, but all he could see was white and grey, for Will’s talons has clasped firmly overhead, hiding them both from the world in a plume of new healthy feathers.

 

To be surrounded by such majesty moved Hannibal to tears, but he didn’t want to disturb the creature soundly sleeping in his arms. So he wept quietly, in awe of this man who returned him to the impulsiveness of youth, who reminded him of his capacity for love, who made him feel human just when he had given up on the concept entirely.

 

“My dearest Will.” He whispered, placing his hand over Will’s stomach. There was only the slow rise and fall of his diaphragm, but Hannibal knew that his heart has chosen to make its home there.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	11. Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two men fell into a companionable routine that skirted the edges of friendship until Hannibal extends an invitation that would extend the scope of their relationship.

It was early fall and the leaves had started to turn into shades of red and yellow. The ground has lost it’s humid warmth and began to smell sweetly of decay and dormancy. It was a time for walks in the brisk air, to taking in the last amicable sunrays before the snow arrives and make such ventures uncomfortable.

 

Will and Hannibal had begun to spend more time together. They usually start in Hannibal’s office, where maintenance of the mind would eventually lead to offering of dinner or breakfast, of which Will would always accept eagerly. His wings flourished under Hannibal’s steadfast care, coming alive in his attention and answering the man’s hushed questions with trills and rustles that signifies not only awareness, but sentience.

 

Despite the doctor’s repeatedly claims that he was merely curious about them scientifically, Will understood that Hannibal had a special connection with them. His wings favored him like one might favor a parent over another, and Will could hardly blame them. When he’s with Hannibal, they’re completely taken care of, showing vigorous growth in both plumage and wingspan.

 

Hannibal has been more than just a doctor, or a friend. He was a permanent fixture in Will’s solitary life that brought the quiet pleasure of companionship. That alone was a priceless gift Will couldn’t repay, but that doesn’t mean he would stop trying to do it anyways.

 

Just as the tail end of summer began to bleed into autumn Will invited the doctor for a quiet weekend away from the city, “A change in scenery, if you’re not opposed to slumming it out in the country” he reasoned, trying to hide his attempts at reciprocating hospitality under a gruff veil of nonchalance and casual apathy.

 

Hannibal had seen right through him of course, and he accepted with the enthusiasm Will felt but was too self-conscious to show. The investigator promised a jaunt through the forest to harvest whatever bounty it offered, an activity that would both please the doctor’s culinary interest and maybe muss up his maddeningly neat appearance at the same time.

 

As he waited for Hannibal’s arrival Will found himself pacing up and down his living room, scattering his pack from one corner to the other. He looks upon them sadly, knowing that their easy company and acceptance was a thing in the past. Instead he released them outside, leaving the back door open for them to come and go as they please.

 

Will didn’t have the heart to confine them in a room with someone they hated.

 

His wings twitches and folded itself against him, healthy enough, though not as their peak. Will still had trouble eating, always hungry but never able to hold anything down. The leftover Hannibal insists he brings back home was a godsend. They lasted him days, if he’s controlled enough, and if not, he would finish everything in the seat of his car and starve for until Friday rolls around and he could feed from whatever extra lunch Hannibal ‘intentionally’ packed in their sessions.

 

The man’s care and attention filled Will’s heart with warmth. He felt cherished with him, like a beloved brother without the friction that being actual siblings brought.

 

When he hears the near silent roll of Hannibal’s Bentley Will almost rushed out. His wings certainly wanted to, pushing on his back as if magnetized by the sheer presence of Hannibal’s polarity. Will let them push him out onto the porch but no further, splaying them out gleefully when he saw Hannibal exited the car with pinked cheeks and a smile devoid of defenses.

 

“I apologize for being late, but I was distracted by a roadside stall. It had the most wonderful selection of berries and apples.” Hannibal greeted him before popping his trunk open and pulling out a wooden crate filled with produce.

 

Will smiled so wide that his cheeks begun to ache, so he ducked his head to hid them, greeting Hannibal with no more than a smile as he helped him carry in a crate of apples and berries into the house.

 

“We’re supposed to forage our dinner Hannibal.” Will admonished him simply when he spied a familiar cooler Hannibal usually brings when he shops. The man didn’t reply to him immediately, opting to stop Will by his shoulder so he could greet his wings with fond caress and whispered hellos. It’s a familiar ritual to them now, but it still made Will shiver in delight.

 

“And we will.” Replied the man. “These are just mere condiments to help highlight our harvest today. Butter, bacon, and bocconcini. Small little mozzarella balls that would pair wonderfully with any mushroom we could find.” Hannibal explained at Will’s raised eyebrow,

 

The man nodded and held his doors aloft for him, storing the small information in a small cabinet in his mind saved for little food trivia he learned in Hannibal’s company. He delights in memorizing such things, for it brought joy to Hannibal’s eyes when he recited it back weeks later.

 

Every time an easy laugh would rumbled out from the stoic man, it would surprise Will every time, for never could he imagine bringing such easy joy to someone else like that. He thought such luxury were reserved for stable, happy people.

 

“I see the hounds are absent from their post today.” The man commented at the empty house.

 

Will chuckled at Hannibal’s insistence at calling his harmless mutts such noble names. “They’re out back.” He said, hoping that his voice wouldn’t wavers as he relayed the news to the man. “What little remained of them, at least.”

 

Hannibal stopped his casual survey of Will’s cozy home and looked to him with a questioning glance. “I’m in the process of giving them away.” Will quietly admitted, hiding his face behind the fridge so Hannibal couldn’t see the pain in them.

 

“And here I thought you were aiming to keep every stray that padded along to your doorstep.” Hannibal teases him gently, never with cruelty.

 

“Yeah well,” Will sighed, rubbing his face. “They weren’t happy here anymore. Shall we?” the man said, quickly emptying a wicker basket that held a sad shriveled onion so they may fill it with fresher rewards. Hannibal nodded and followed suit, unfolding an oak colored canvas bag that, much Will’s dismay, manages to look fashionable on him.

 

The walked into the woods and moved away from the main road, deeper into pathless grounds where many things flourished even in the cooling weather. Will was happy to talk about everything than about his dogs, proudly sharing knowledge of the woods that he had come to call home. Hannibal’s eyes shined when he spotted a colony of bright yellow chanterelles and morels near a fallen branch.

 

“These are exquisite.” The man praised, sounding as impressed as if Will was the one who grew them himself. “I can’t believe no one has taken them yet. A handful of these could easily net us a few hundred dollars.” He gushed, taking Will’s proffered hunting knife so he could dig deep into their roots.

 

“Perks of living in the middle of nowhere, I suppose.” Will smiles, leaving Hannibal to his task so he could gather a few fallen walnuts and shake off some budding rosehip berries. They smelled divine, and Will mischievously slipped a few buds into the doctor’s coat pocket for him to find later. It didn’t take long for the scent to reach Hannibal’s nose, and he laughed at the discovery, popping the berries into his mouth to follow Will’s lead.

 

“I can see the appeal, what with nature’s larder only a short walk away.” Hannibal said, brushing the dead leaves from his pants, no longer the perfectly pristine Baltimore doctor, much to Will’s delight.

 

The walked and traded tales of their week, stopping only to pluck berries or dig up edible roots Will managed to spot. Hannibal let himself be led, as keen to learn as he was eager to see to see this new side of the man.

 

Slowly their basket began to fill with various mushrooms, nuts, even aromatics such as wild onions, herbs, and asparagus. When they came upon a small patch of out of seasons fiddlehead ferns hidden behind a curtain of cattails, Hannibal dropped to his knees and began telling Will of how rare and delicious those curled little things were.

 

It was as if they were both transported to a time before civilization was built, rummaging around the bushes like beast. No other animals dared crossed their paths, for they were the most dangerous creatures in these woods, and even the animals could sense that.

 

Hannibal never expected to know peace such as this, to walk amongst nature and subdue it with someone as beautiful as Will.

 

“Oh, those looks quite succulent, aren’t they?” The doctor murmured, eyes drawn up high up on a tree bark to cluster of fleshy white growth almost twenty feet up in the air. “Oyster mushroom. Very delicious and filling.” Hannibal explained while looked to them with longing. “Such a shame it’s too far up to harvest.”

 

“Ah hell, I’ll get them for you.” Will drawled, flipping open his own hunting knife before climbing the bark.

 

“No, Will, please. It’s too high-“ Hannibal protested, but it quickly quieted down when he realized just how quickly Will was climbing. In no time at all he was hanging from the treetops, his wing talons digging deep into the bark to keep him steady. “Please be careful.” The doctor said weakly.

 

Will ignored him, completely absorbed in his task. Before long he had a whole head of mushroom in his hand, delicate and succulent, just like Hannibal said. “Hannibal! Catch!” he said, raining down the harvest for the doctor to receive.

 

“I much rather catch you.” Hannibal grumbled out loud as he gathered the scattered offering. It should’ve sounded sweet and flirty, but the worry in his voice made Will threw his head out with laughter. He liked unraveling this perfectly composed doctor, and inside, he was sure Hannibal was glass someone would poke and pull him out of the suffocating suit of armor he constantly wore.

 

And how wonderful it was that he would spare such worry to him?

 

“Now come down carefully you silly boy.” Hannibal called, completely ignoring the armful of mushroom that used to command his attention. How could one care about such trifling thing when the most important thing in the world is hanging precariously from what it seemed like Yggdrasil itself?

 

“Catch!” the man exclaimed again.

 

“What?”  Hannibal’s heart dropped.

 

Will laughed and leaned over the branches, arms stretched out in abandon, hanging only by the hold of his talons, until they also let go.  Hannibal quickly threw his basket aside and stretched out his arms, ready to break his fall even though he knew he would hurt himself in the process.

 

The dreaded crash never came. Instead Will floated down like leaves riding an invisible current. His wings stretched open, gliding through the air and slowing down time itself. It was magnificent to behold, with the sunrays filtering through each individual feathers, and Hannibal felt that all of the pain and tragedy in his life was worth it, for it brought him here before something absolutely magical.

 

Will was in no danger of hurting himself, but it didn’t stop Hannibal from reaching up to catch his waist and held onto him with the grasp of a drowning man.

 

“Did I scare you doctor?” Will laughed, all bubbly and pleasant.

 

“Yes my dear. You’re an absolute terror.” Hannibal said, his voice still unsteady.

 

“You did say that you would rather catch me.” The man grinned, his wings beating the air like gleeful little puppies.

 

“A menace. A tyrant. That’s what you are.” Hannibal pulled the man into his arms, his chest beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings as he calmed himself to the sound of Will’s laughter muffled through his chest.

 

 

***

 

Hannibal’s hand didn’t leave Will’s shoulder for the rest of the walk home, and Will allowed the doctor greedy hand to remain there, his wings cradling the man close in return.

 

They cleaned their harvest in companionable silence, accompanied with Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong playing from a record player Will pulled out from the back of his closet. The doctor didn’t mind the rusty scratch of the LP. It somehow added to the ambiance of the place, Will’s own nest to retreat from the world.

 

Within an hour Hannibal managed to whip up a feast from the forest itself. Before them was a colorful medley of roasted vegetables and mushroom, served with a salad of bocconcini, nettles and wild watercress. He dressed it in a warm bacon and walnut vinaigrettes, rich and made tangy with slices of rosehip berries to bring everything together.

 

“I’m more of a meat eater these days, but I never knew fungus could taste this good.” Will mumbled as he eyed a glistening piece of morel.

 

“The secret is to get as sweat as much of the water out, caramelize them, and then reconstitute it with flavorful things. In our case it’s butter and bacon.” Hannibal explained proudly. His warm eyes watched closesly as Will speared the last of the piggish man’s belly against fresh sprouts of wild vegetables. It brought out a deep sense of satisfaction, bone deep and endless, for he has provided for this beautiful creature, and that knowledge brought him immense pleasure and contentment.

 

 

***

 

The dark came in suddenly, shrouding them in like their ancestor in their caves. When Will had excused himself, Hannibal stood outside on the porch and stared deep into the dark. It really was like the sea, massive, looming, and unknown. How terribly lonely Will must be to be adrift for so many nights.

 

When Will returned Hannibal had made them a dessert of poached apples and berries, served in a bowl of Devonshire cream and topped with lemony wild thyme. They ate them front of the fire with Ella and Louis playing in the background, volume low enough to facilitate conversation, but still loud enough to fill the silences that threaded between them.

 

The dog scurried away at the sight of them, tails tucked between their legs as they gave them their privacy without even being shooed away. Hannibal had the good grace not to say anything, but he knew that such behavior was not normal, especially not for a pack of animals as spoiled as loved as Will’s was.

 

Will noticed the hanging question behind Hannibal’s eyes and confessed the second half of the secret he was too ashamed to admit earlier. “I put some of them for adoption. All of them really. The cute ones were all taken first.” He said, no longer hiding his grief. “They… They’re afraid of me now.”

 

“Oh?”

 

His wings unfurled and curled around his knees, a habit that only happens whenever he’s feeling vulnerable and afraid. “I never touched or shouted at them, I swear! They just…” Will sighed stopping himself from turning to look at them. He doesn’t want to scare them more than he already has.

 

“I don’t believe you have the capacity to be so cruel towards them.” The doctor reassured him, taking their empty bowls to the sink and returning with a damp caress on the back of Will’s nape. “You’re not that sort of man Will.” He said, and Hannibal’s words bolstered him away from the encroaching guilt and darkness in his mind. It always does.

 

“I started when my wings arrived.” Will quietly reasoned. “Maybe they’re able to see them and aren’t happy with what they see. Not that I blame them.”

 

“Like a pack rejecting the arrival of a strange newcomer.” The doctor mused, wishing he could mangle the mutts apart for instilling such feelings of helplessness in their master.

 

“That’s isn’t very comforting to hear.” Will grumbled, wishing he had something stronger than tea to drink before starting this conversation.

 

“Is it really? You have lived on the fringes of society’s pack, milling amongst them but never truly assimilating yourself into their folds.”

 

“You’re doing it again.” The man sighed. “You’re psychoanalyzing me outside of session Doctor. I’m not going to pay you for the session you know.” He said, trying to use humor to steer the conversation away from the truth he would rather not face.

 

“But am I wrong?” Hannibal insisted. “You’ve always been different Will, if not by your empathy then your temperament. These wings doesn’t make you anymore different than you already are, and they should not be treated as such. Once you accepted this fact, it will no longer torment you, my dear.”

 

“But they do make me different!” Will exclaimed tiredly, glancing towards the dog beds. Only three remained, and soon there will be none. “Dogs can accept friendship from different types of species. Dolphins, monkeys, even large cats. But me? I’m too… _other.”_ He spat, his wings unfurling angrily, sending fearful paws skittering across the floor. The man sighed, pinning his wings down and low against the sofa. “Too monstr-“

 

“Do not say that. Not in front of me, Will. It is as untrue as it is cruel.” Hannibal calmly interjected, and while the man did stop his tirade, it didn’t erase the self-loathing Hannibal saw so plainly in view.

 

“You’re not too monstrous for me, my dear.” Said the man, low and tender as he coaxed the wings away from it’s pinned position. “I adore your otherness Will, not because of it, nor in spite of it, but because it’s a part of you.” Will blinked and flushed, unsure of what to say to such heartfelt declaration. Hannibal nudged him playfully with his feet. “This is the part where you reciprocate and tell me that you enjoy my strange proclivities too.”

 

Will snorted at this perfectly socialized specimen of a man. “What weird proclivities? Your enthusiasm for bargain fruits on the side of the road? Your insistence on churning your own butter and smoking your own bacon?” he teased.

 

“Hush now, you terrible boy. No more bacon for you then.” The empty threats brought laughter to Will’s face, because they both know that Hannibal couldn’t resist feeding Will even if he tried. Even the wings looked pleased, for they sprawled their massive length along Hannibal’s lap like lounging cats begging to be petted.

 

Hannibal, of course, enthusiastically did so, crooning Ella’s syrupy lyrics to them as Will watches on. The doctor smirks when the wings trilled back just as happily.

 

“Oh look. Now you got them all riled up.” Will laughed, smoothing out the fluffed-out plumage who seemed eager to show themselves off to the doctor.

 

“My apologies Will, but you just can’t help yourselves can’t you.” Hannibal cooed, brushing the feathers down with a contented smile. He idly lingered on the talons sheathed under the beautiful feathers, just like a thorn hidden under a rose’s beauty.

 

“Though unfortunate, I can understand your pack’s fear.” The little ones are fearsome, jealous things.” The wings rustled at his words and curled around Hannibal’s calves. “Look. They simply want all of your love and attention Will.”

 

“Seemed like they what all of _your_ love and attention.” Will said, feeling absolutely foolish as the last words left his tongue, but Hannibal didn’t balk away. He remained there, accepting the wings that his canine companions had rejected.

 

“And I am happy to give them all that I can give.” Hannibal replied just as fondly, and it instantly relived whatever doubts Will had lingering inside himself.

 

“You’re awfully attached to them Doctor.” He chuckled,

 

“Why of course. I helped deliver them. When you were delirious with pain and fever, I was there with them. They were as responsive as they are now, did you know that?” Hannibal smiles, and will could only shook his head, surprised at this new nugget of information.

 

“What else?” Will asked, suddenly curious of others secrets the man kept hidden from him.

 

The doctor nodded and began his tale. Most of them Will already know, how they begun as small protrusions on his back until it was pierced by the talons. He described the great gouts of blood that sprayed out, and how the man spent the better part of the day wiping each individual feather clean. “They are…” Hannibal looked towards the fire wistfully before shaking his head, happily chagrined at his own inability to explain these wonders.

 

“I don’t know what they are Will, nor do I care to pretend to. Seeing them makes me understand that things like magic and the divine is not just mere concept to ease one’s journey in life. They are as real as you and me, and I am forever grateful for that.” The doctor smiled, which Will weakly returned before leaving the doctor alone and mumbling about doing the dishes.

 

Suddenly it dawned on him that Hannibal might be interested in something than just mere friendship.

 

“Would you like to accompany me to for a weekend of culture and art?” Hannibal asked as he fed more logs into the fire. “I’ve received an invitation from the Baltimore Museum of Art, and I would love to have your company for a quick browse and to the Opera after.”

 

He shouldn’t accept. He couldn’t. Their relationship was tethering on the edges of their friendship. One more step will plunge them both into a completely different realm, and Will wasn’t sure it was something he was ready for

 

Still, he nodded anyways, because this was the first time Hannibal ever asked anything of him, and he couldn’t bear to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	12. Sacrosanct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal begins their weekend of culture and art, threading past well defined lines of their comfortable friendship

He shouldn’t have said yes. This place was a far cry from the warm comfort of his home. Though it’s brighter here in the city, the colors were all washed out. Everything around him looked like an old poster that sat out in the sun for too long. Cheap. Disposable. Especially the stylized artifice of society’s elite who comes to critique the work more than to witness it’s existence.

 

Will didn’t even bother to come with a suit. The only ones he owned were the worn tweed he wore for conferences and a somber black two piece he’s sure he’ll be buried in. Instead, Will opted for one of the obscenely expensive shirts Hannibal bought him. It might be silk, he wasn’t sure, Will never owned silk shirts before, but the white shirt fit his body perfectly, including his very fussy wings that has has grown over the few weeks.

 

Usually Will avoided wearing white shirts as much as he can. They’re too high maintenance for his rough and tumble lifestyle, and they’re a veritable dog hair magnet. More importantly, the color white brought out too much of his own natural coloring. His lips became too pink, hair too richly chocolate, and eyes became too round and blue. For someone like Will, the display would border on ostentation, but he figured he would try it this one time. He may hate seeing himself in it, but if anyone would appreciate such a thing, it would be Hannibal.

 

His attendance tonight was as much as a performance as the opera they’re about to see. Will’s here as a friend, eager to lend his company to someone dear to him. _‘And nothing more.’_ He told himself nervously. The flicker of desire in Hannibal’s eyes still burned vividly into his mind, and Will was just wasn’t ready to confront his feelings.

 

Still, it doesn’t mean that he couldn’t be there for his friend. Afterall, his presence was requested, and Will always have a problem with saying no.

 

As he waited for the man, Will kept his eyes trained to the ground, knowing full well how Hannibal would find him in due time. There’s no need to aggravate his apathy against the abrasive minds of passing strangers. He just needs to wait for the doctor and he’ll find him like he always does.

 

In retrospect Will has gotten quite comfortable about depending on Hannibal.

 

A year ago Will would’ve scoffed at the idea of relying so much on another person. Now he’s stood there wearing the clothes Hannibal bought for him, the ache of his belly sated by the food Hannibal regularly supplies, navigating a part of society he usually wouldn’t even bother associating with.

 

When he’s unhinged, Hannibal will as the first person he’ll call. Even if they went a week without talk to one another, they would converge together in their weekly meeting, where the man maintain the sanity of Will’s psyche like he does with everything else in his life.

 

At this point, Hannibal was less of a healthcare provider and more of a provider in the traditional sense. As a man who’s been told to take up that role, Will hated himself for not hating this.

 

Yet despite the bravado his useless pride itched to put on, Will remained as he always was. What else could he do? Push the doctor away so he could put on a pantomime of self-reliance? Will didn’t want that. Such separation would be devastating. Hannibal was his tether to this painfully transparent world. To reject him was tantamount to betrayal, and after all that he’s done for him, Will refused to abandon him like that.

 

Even if it meant he’ll have to straddle this strange line of friendship that they both have.

 

When the clock struck five, Will felt Hannibal’s presence before he even saw him. It was the lowering of conversation as people admired the man from the corner of their eyes, half distracted by his presence to fully focus on their conversation. His wings reacted to him, resonating like an adoring child reaching out to their father. As always Will pushed them back, pinning them into compliance so not to give away his eagerness and nerves.

 

‘ _Please don’t.’_ Will thought as he saw his reflection on Hannibal’s mirror polished shoes.

_‘Please.’_

_‘Please just look at me as your friend tonight. Don’t make it complicated. Just-‘_

“You look lovely my dear.”

 

The felt the blush fanned up beneath his open collar and he consciously move to button them up. “Thanks.” He said, peering over his curls so he could stop his gaze at his chest. The man was dressed impeccably, as usual, decked in an all-black tuxedo with the same colored trimmings; shirt, pocket squares, cufflink. It made him look stylishly and laidback at the same time. “You too.” He added lamely.

 

Hannibal smiles and greeted his wings next, ardent words discreetly whispered as he crowded Will against the wall, stroking each arch in hushed greeting. The man was so close that Will could smell the delicate scent of his aftershave, the very same one Hannibal gifted to him when he ‘accidentally’ broke Will’s bottle of Old Spice. It smelled so different on the man, enhancing his pleasant masculine scent, and he had to bit down the urge to lean in to scent him better.

 

His wings, however, was not as reserved as he was. They trilled at the doctor’s touch, waving around excitedly to stir up enough wind to and raised the dresses around them.

 

Will groaned and folded them shut with a curse. “Sorry.” He muttered apologetically. Hannibal merely chuckled, charmed by the strange dichotomy of this beautiful creature before him

 

“Shall we?” he said, motioning towards the entrance of the gallery, and for once Will was both glad and slightly disappointed that the man didn’t offer up his arm for him to take.

 

***

 

“It’s… empty.” Will said, slightly stunned by the absence of both art and people inside the large museum.

 

“There is an event outside to celebrating the end of the John Waters exhibit. Technically the museum is closed while the new exhibit is being arranged, but as a longtime patron, I’ve been offered the opportunity for a little peek.”

 

“A private showing huh?” Will murmured. “Somehow I’m not surprised they would do something like that for you.”

 

After greeting an overly excited curator, Hannibal walked Will past the velvet ropes of closed exhibits and asked for privacy. The security guard, who knew him by name, agreed immediately, happy for a smoke break, and suddenly the two men were alone, facing a closed door with bright light leaking from the bottom.

 

“Exciting isn’t it? It almost makes you want to do something rather naughty.” Hannibal asked, his brown eyes absolutely alive with barely contained mischief.

 

“Is that an invitation to steal some art for your home? Because I’m still FBI you know, I _will_ arrest you.”

 

The doctor laughed. “Such a good boy you are.” He teased, before leading them past the closed door that blinded them both in a stunningly bright light.

 

Inside they found themselves in massive atrium. It was filled with marble sculptures, some of them still half unpacked in their wooden boxes. “Is that…?” Will gaped, recognizing the iconic statue of David in the distance. Hannibal nodded, delighted by Will’s awe.

 

“The Museum has been working on this exhibit for a very long time. These are all on temporary loan, of course, and only for a mere week.”

 

One sculpture in particular caught his eyes, a perfect specimen of a man sprawled out on a rock, off kilter as his body twist and open with abandon. His face was filled with an expression of pained vexation, but it also could easily be mistaken for one of carnal pleasure.

 

Will swallowed and dropped his eyes, but Hannibal already caught sight of him and urged him towards the statue with his hand on the small of Will’s back.

 

“The Barberini Faun.” Hannibal declared, as if he was showing off his own collection of private art. “A spectacular specimen of Hellenistic art. It’s informed by the classical tradition of meticulous anatomical precision, though it’s certainly do not retained any of it’s contemporaries’s stodgy reserve.”

 

Will laughed weakly and allowed his eyes to wander up the twisting abdomen of the carved marble. “There is nothing reserved about this. Its… pornographic.”

 

“It certainly quickens the blood, doesn’t it?” Will didn’t answer, but he loosens the collar he buttoned earlier as he tried his best not to imagine Hannibal’s face on the erotic marble.

 

“It’s depicts a drunken satyr, waking, or perhaps resting, from one of Dionysus’s many festive orgies. You can see the small tail peeking behind his hips here.” Sure enough between the jagged rock and rippling muscles was a shy curl of a trail, hugging the perfect mound of his ass. Will could feel himself flush even further, much to Hannibal’s amusement.

 

“The ancient Greek believed in hierarchies, not one between men, but one that separates Gods, Heroes, humans, and also subhumans. The satyr is one such creatures, with his anthropomorphic animal features and unbridled passion that most citizen would be discouraged from showing.”

 

“I suppose they would consider me subhuman, what with the chicken wings on my back.” Will laughed, happy for a chance to poke fun at himself, for anything to pull himself away from the sculpture that will surely take on a new life when he pleasure himself in the shower.

 

“Oh no my dear.” Hannibal immediate said, aghast at the mere idea of it. “If they could see you, they would worship you like a god.”

 

He guided Will past the many writhing sculpture and brought him in front of a moment of a headless woman. Instead of arms, wings stretched out behind her. It was as if there was a breeze blowing between her feathers and the delicate folds of her dress. She was cold marble, and yet she was also alive.

 

“The Winged Nike of Samothrace, also known as the goddess of victory.” Hannibal proclaimed quietly. “Her home used to be at the bow of a stone ship at a temple near the Agean sea. She stood for centuries, facing the sea breeze that would’ve made the very folds of her dress seemed alive.”

 

“Amazing.” Will said, completely in awe of the craftmanship shown there. Hannibal nodded and eyed the small pedestal before her, empty now that her priestess were all dead.

 

“She would’ve enjoyed offerings of incense, bolts of silks, and animal sacrifice. They would be all cooked on a pyre so she could enjoy their scent. The meat would be shared between her most devout worshipers, and the ashes of the fabric rubbed between their brows. In times of turbulence, they would even disembowel an animal to divine her message from their entrails.”

 

“Barbaric.” Will murmured, though he figured such cruel gods would enjoy the shedding of blood that would drove their worshipers to a frenzy.

 

Hannibal turned to Will, his eyes hooded and fierce with devotion. “Such luxury would also be afforded to you if they were to see you, all of you. They would never see you as subhuman. You will be a god to them, and worshiped as such.”

 

Will hummed, captivated by the statue as Hannibal serenaded him with images of a strange, dead civilization. “I don’t need any of that.” He murmured, but his wings swelled and chirped in pleasure, spread out in mimicry of the god that bore their image.

 

“Of course you don’t.” Hannibal said fondly, though his heart clenched at the idea of another person witnessing the glory of the man beside him. _‘What need do you have for other worshipers? Don’t I already worship you daily my dearest one? With sacrifice of meat and blood to nourish your body, with frankincense and myrrh distilled in glass bottles for your olfactory pleasure, with tailored silks that you wear so beautifully? If you still find them wanting, my dear, you only need to ask, and I will lay down my life to please you.’_

 

“You’re staring again Doctor.” Will grumbled, nudging Hannibal playfully with his talons. The man chuckled and let himself be jostled around before catching the wing by the blunt edge of it’s talon and burying his fingers in it’s lush plumage.

 

“Hard to avoid. They’re much more captivating than anything here on display.” This time Will laughed, his wings creating a breeze to match the living drapery around the goddess’s body.

 

“More.” Will gushed as he grasped Hannibal’s arm, the whites of his eyes draining to the unrestrained black that signaled the retreat of his restraints. “Teach me. Show me everything.” He said, eyes challenging the monuments of art around the room, all untold story his for his mind to devour.

 

Like the dutiful worshiper in Nike’s temples Hannibal bowed to Will’s desire, cradling the man in his arms as they move from one sculpture to another. Hannibal felt complete with his his arms wrapped around Will’s waist and lips buried in his curls. To him and him alone he whispered histories from books he devoured in his youth, glad to have someone to share his knowledge with.

 

Will listened attentively, though he no longer hid his thoughts or reactions from the man anymore. There was no need to hide from someone he trusted.

 

When a work displeased him, Will bared his teeth and hissed at it with a demonic rumble that could twist stone faces into a grimace. When a sculpture moved him, he shivered and gasped, giggling excitedly as as each work was further elevated by Hannibal’s expert explanations. When Hannibal ended each one of his monologues with a tender, “As masterful-” “As magnificent-“ “As graceful as it is, it pales when compared to you, my dear.” He purred like a contented cat and nuzzled back at the man, urging him to continue his quiet worship, which the man was all too eager to comply, extoling praises that made Will giggle and purr.

 

Finally they arrived at the _pièce de résistance_ of all the exhibits; the Venus de Milo.

 

Will bristled at her and buried his face in the folds of Hannibal’s tux, a godling unhappy at the sight of an older deity that was hailed as the epitome of female beauty, something he could never hope to embody.

 

He listened to Hannibal’s explanation sullenly, wings twitching in impatience as he waited for the man to say those words honeyed words that always eased his heart. He waited until Hannibal had no insights to tell, no more history to recite, until they just stood there in front of love and grace, staring at her and her limbless figure.

 

Eventually Will muttered murderously in a quiets rasp that tugged on Hannibal’s heart.

 

“I want to break it.”

 

“Oh my little tyrant.” The doctor sighed, captibated at Will’s childish need to be desired.

 

“It shouldn’t exist.”

 

“And yet it stands.”

 

“It’s ugly.”

 

“It is not.” Hannibal countered, before finally laving gentle strokes over Will’s trembling jaw, cupping it co he could catch the rivulets of angry tears that blackened his palms. “… but’s still not as beautiful as you.”

 

“Liar.” He petulantly answered, though a smile tugged on the corner of his lips, enlivening his sagging wings as he sighed in relief.

 

“Then I’ll show you.”

 

Hannibal then lead him up to the pedestal behind the goddess, a simple pallet box the workers haven’t put away while they worked. “Look here my dear.” Hannibal said, pulling a slim polaroid from his coat pocket, snapping pictures after pictures until Will was dizzy from the lights and the floor was littered with black squares that slowly began to developing into colors.

 

Eventually Will’s eyes followed suit, midnight black fading to reveal his brilliant blue eyes. The doctor stopped and helped him down, but Will ignored him, making sure to keep themselves distant and separated. The doctor merely inclined his head and kneeled to gather his pictures.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on with us.” Will quietly confessed as he stared up at Aphrodite, looking away from them after she has laid her spell over them two. The man still hated her. He still wanted to smash her into pieces, but Will restrained himself, just as he restrained himself from falling into the doctor’s arms like he wanted.

 

This was supposed to be a performance, a show of control and distance to maintain this precious friendship he needed. Instead, Will allowed himself to be carried away, playing with the doctor like he was some enfant terrible intent to satisfy his curiosity on this incestuous dalliance. He wrapped his wings around himself, for he couldn’t trust them to not reach towards their paternal figured that has showered them with love beyond the realm of passing fondness.

 

Yet he remained, because Hannibal had asked him to be here, and Will didn’t want to leave. He was as captivated by the man as he was with him.

 

In the awkward quiet of the atrium, the doctor shuffled through the pictures he took. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed the unnamable feeling that spread through his body.

 

“Though I may not have the talents of Athanadoros or the support of a collective like Pergamene, I am blessed.” He sighed, stepping close to Will, his eyes still locked to the pictures in his hand. His wings unclasped themselves and welcomed him into their folds, until they were too shrouded in white, indistinguishable than the marble sculptures around them.

 

“Before me stands the greatest muse, one that would be the envy of all the artisan of ancient Greece.” He sighed. Hannibal cresses Will’s cheeks, hoping he might shoo away the uncertain look from his face.

 

“That… is the last thing you should say Hannibal. What are we?” Will asked, pained by the doctor’s tender words and his inability to accept them. The man wasn’t affronted by his rebuff, he merely answered him with the same patience and kindness reserved for him, and only him.

 

“We can be whatever we want to be, Will.” Hannibal whispered. “As long as we remain in each other’s sphere, I can be content.”

 

Will breath hitched, a real pain spreading across his chest. “Why do you even fucking bother?” The man snapped. “I’m a shitty friend and I will be shitty at this too if it-“ He took in a sharp breath, “-proceed.”

 

For a moment they only stared at each other, Will, desperate for his answer, and Hannibal, in complete dismay over Will’s intractable blindness.

 

“Oh Will you truly don’t realize it, do you?“ Hannibal helped him down and showed him his pictures, only one was of the Venus de Milo, the rest was Will, taken from every possible angle, obsessively. His wings were nowhere in frame, wilted in uncertainty and defeat.

 

“You’re beautiful.” He said as he showed Will how he looked from his point of view. Will swallowed hard and crushed the pictures in his hand. Hannibal was right. He looked absolutely stunning.

 

 

***

 

They exited the unfinished exhibit apart from each other. Hannibal stopped to chat with the curator of the gallery, who welcomed them both like they’re royalty. “How did you and your partner enjoy the exhibit sir?”

 

“Oh no, we’re not partners.” Hannibal chuckled and corrected the man for Will’s sake. “But we enjoyed them immensely. Thank you for making it possible Dorian.”

 

The man looked absolutely mortified. Clearly Hannibal was something more than just a mere ‘patron of the arts’, though Will force himself not to wonder about the money the doctor spent on making this trip possible. He already feel guilty enough for not returning the Doctor’s affection and questioning him instead.

 

Said curator began sputtering apologies, trying to catch Will’s attention for forgiveness, for which the man merely returned with a hoarse, “It’s fine.” Before returning to his silence. Hannibal then pulled the man’s attention back and began chatting about the museum’s events, for which the curator invited them to join the festivities outside.

 

“I’m afraid we will have to decline your gracious invitation. We have a show to catch, and curtain call is in fifteen minutes.”

 

And away they went, outside to the faded glitter of another opulent location, distracting themselves with beauty so they could avoid talking about the strange heaviness settling in their hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	13. Acts of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal goes to the opera and confronts their feelings

Everything glittered. From the golden awnings that declared the opera house to the platters that carried golden rimmed champagne flutes. It was a world a step above the museum gallery they just visited, where before, a quiet contemplation of the art were encouraged. Here people were expected to talk, all of them crowing unnecessary their opinions and criticism. Will remained muted, both in his silence and emotions, sipping on bubbly wine as he watched Hannibal interact with the people like a king in his court.

 

The man weaves in and out of the crowd like a show dog, perfectly groomed and bred to perform for everyone’s delight. And they do delight in him. Women placed their hand on his arm and leaned close when they laughed. Men looked at him with the desperation that lonely rich boys have when a popular charismatic jock walks pass.

 

Nobody else noticed it, his mask is a thing of marvel indeed, but Will could see it slowly unraveling from the small gaps of his micro expressions. Hannibal’s mild amusement morph into boredom, that melted away to base irritation as more people came over to greet him.

 

_‘Interesting.’_  Will thought. And here he thought Hannibal would be the perfect social butterfly, eager to fly from flower to flower for a drop of nectared words, resting in the company of beautiful things.

 

It seemed like the only thing Hannibal of beauty Hannibal was interested was him.

 

The man have been sneaking in glances at him ever since they parted away during intermission. During the performance Will didn’t catch his gaze even once, but he felt Hannibal’s eyes on him even as the performance crescendos into it’s breathtaking climax. It was uncomfortable, not because Will doesn’t enjoy Hannibal’s eyes on him, but only because he still remembered how he wantonly swayed and nuzzle into his arms in the gallery.

 

It was completely unlike him to act like that. He desired the doctor, yes, but Will was adept at repressing his wants and needs, a byproduct of growing up in a poor single parent household. However, when he’s with Hannibal he has this moment of clarity and freedom, where his mind abandoned its formidable fortification and frolicked around with childlike abandon.

 

It’s those hazy moments of clarity and Hannibal’s uncompromising acceptance of him that made him trust the man completely. He wouldn’t deny the man his companionship from his own faux pas, but it was just so damn fresh.

 

Will could still remember the feel of Hannibal’s muscles flex and shift as he serenaded him with stories of ancient gods and mythic heroes, how he wondered how their identical aftershave could smell so intoxicatingly different on his skin. Will remembered all of that, along with the sheer adoration Hannibal had for him.

 

For him, not just his wings.

 

For a time Will thought the doctor’s obsession with his wings were as normal as his suits or cooking, an interest for something as queer as it was rarified. That was just how the man was, intense, eccentric, yet completely charming in his pursuit. Will could understand his fascination for his wings, but his fascination for _him_?

 

If other boys pulled on their crush’s pigtails then Will was the type of who avoids them just to stare at them from afar. It’s not that he lacks confidence. He’s just so painfully aware of his many oddities that he instantly distrust those who declared their affection for him. Afterall, what sort of wacko would even like someone like him?

 

Yet despite the many discomfort of being faced with the complicated feelings of his psychiatrist and friend, Will found it impossible to be apart from him. Especially not when his eyes pleaded for attention like his dogs used to do.

 

Will finished his glass and picked up another, sipping on liquid courage as he parted the modest crowds to reach Hannibal at it’s center. His warm eyes softened with relief at the sight of him, and the small moue in his face turned into a satisfied smirk.

 

“My companion, Will Graham.” Hannibal declared, placing a comforting hand on Will’s shoulder. His wings purred contentedly, but Will felt frozen at the declaration.

 

“Ahh, your _companion_ Hannibal? Or just merely for the night?” A portly man laughed, as he eyes Will’s modest attire and pretty face. He was completely unaware of everyone’s distaste of his own insipid joke and continued to laugh out loud, wondering about which ‘agency’ Hannibal used to find his boy.

 

Will flushed, knowing full well that he’s just being called an escort by some half-drunk swine. Hannibal can usually forgive transgression from a mind addled with alcohol, but this was an affront to Will. It didn’t matter that he’s never killed from his social circles before. Hannibal will definitely add him to his growing list of recipies.

 

Afterall, what kind of man would he be if he couldn’t protect what was dear to him?

 

“The only agency Will works for is the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Will here is a special agent, as well as a professor in Quantico, teaching prospective FBI agents before their time in the field.” The crowd tittered excitedly at Will’s exotic occupation, and the man was glad to have Hannibal by his side. He always knew what to say and do to win over a crowd.

 

A kind tall man engaged him in conversation, a professor of philosophy who bonded with Will on the hardships of molding young mind. Hannibal was otherwise engaged in his own throngs of admirers, but he remained by Will’s side, hovering close in case he needed him.

 

Will should be offended, really, but all he felt was a quiet sense of relief, of being protected and adored. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, the same way a new shoe would chafe and rub against your feet, but Will found it comforting all the same. He was in Hannibal’s world, and the man remained by his side, his paddle, steering him toward calmer waters.

 

“Thank you.” Will whispered when the gong announced the start of the next half of the play. “For what you said to that stupid drunk.”

 

“Of course my dear.” Hannibal smiled happily. This was their first exchange they hand since the gallery. “Thank you for coming with me. You’ve made a terribly dull night a much more memorable one.”

 

“Even after I ignored you for half of it?” Will said as he cringed apologetically.

 

“Even after that.” Hannibal said, smiling at the twitching wings. He wanted to brush away the small curl of hair that fell over Will’s face but thought better of it. Instead he turned to face the stage, content to watch the show now that his beloved has returned to him.

 

**

 

The show was definitely worth the hassle during its intermission. The costume, the music, the drama of it all, they were spectacular, high art made tangible by the wonderful instrument that is the human body. To Will’s delight, the doctor was also affected by it, even going as far as shedding a tear at the death of the primadonna.

 

When Hannibal’s hand returned after dabbing a corner of his wettened eyes, Will captured it in his own and gave him a small smile. Hannibal beamed at him and turned his attention to the next act. They watched the rest of the show like that, hand entangled as they were transfixed by the sight before them.

 

When the cast bowed during their curtain call, Will rose with the doctor to give their standing ovation.

 

It was then that it clicked for him. Hannibal has never been more complete and passionate as he was around great works of art. His appreciation for them elevated him from the everyday rabble of pretender and ladder climbing socialites. His love for them sets him apart, making him as beautiful and arresting as the very art he lauded and admired.

 

Suddenly Will began to wonder if the doctor would enjoy his company the next time he goes to the opera.

 

 

***

 

After the show they settled on a small bistro with a long waiting list and high recommendation from both Jimmy and Beverly. Will insisted on treating Hannibal as a thank you for his invitation.

 

At the doctor looked mildly put off by the close squeeze of the restaurant’s table, but eventually his disapproval melted away as the waiter put down a complimentary bread basket the waiter.

 

“You can always tell a good restaurant from their complimentary service.” Hannibal said, tearing neat little bites out of his bread. “If they bothered to maintain a high standard over something they couldn’t charge, then you’ll know they’ll pay attention to the high-ticket items.”

 

“I never thought of it that way.” Will hummed, noting with slight disappointment just how bland and boring the bread was compared to the ones that Hannibal made. “Then again the only free thing I ever got was those free biscuits from Cracker Barrell.”

 

“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that establishment.”

 

“I would be surprised if you were.” Will laughed, remembering the unapologetic southern décor the restaurant chair has. “I’ll take you there sometime.” He added shyly.

 

It’s a terrible idea of course, but Hannibal looked so happy at Will’s initiative that the man couldn’t find a reason to backpedal. He doesn’t want to. When Hannibal smiles, truly smiles, it brought out a feeling of contentment and peace. Will never want to let that go.

 

***

 

At the recommendation of the waiter, they both ordered the house specialty, brick chicken served right on a still sizzling cast iron pan. At first the sight of the whole bone in chicken excited Will, because maybe it would somehow draw the doctor to use his phalanges like most commoners would, but much to his dismay, Hannibal deboned his portion with quick efficient strokes and continued on eating his neat little portions.

 

It was delicious, laden with herbs and crispy skin, but it lacked that special _je ne sais quoi_ that Hannibal cooking usually has. When Will voiced it out loud, the man all but beamed, his smile the brightest thing in that candlelit bistro.

 

“Would you like to retire to my home for a nightcap?” The doctor asked as they fiddled with the dessert neither had the sweet tooth to finish.

 

“I shouldn’t.” Will sighed. “It’ll be really late when we’re done.”

 

“It wouldn’t be the first time you spend the night over.” Hannibal said teasingly, though there’s something in his eyes that made Will want to say yes, but something held him back.

 

“That term you used in the opera.” Will said. “You introduced me as your… ‘companion’ was it?”

 

Hannibal nodded, looking away rather sadly. “If I had known about Mr. Leigh’s terribly crass mouth, I would’ve opted for a different term.”

 

“Yet it was the first thing you chose anyways.” Will smiled, already uncomfortable with how the conversation is progressing.

 

“If it makes you uncomfortable-“

 

“It doesn’t -”

 

“- then what other terms or title would you prefer me to call you in the future?”

 

“I don’t know.” Will shrugged, mushing an unfortunate piece of red velvet cake into a paste of pink glob. “Friend. Isn’t that what we are?” He said, nervously shoveling the monstrosity into his mouth as the doctor stared at him pensively.

 

“Yes. Yes of course.” Hannibal said, seemingly distracted by the flickering candlelight between them. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while, The doctor deep in thought as Will continued his mush and shovel maneuver, all just so he wouldn’t have to speak up first. Eventually the cake was gone, and Will was out of distraction.

 

“Hannibal?” he called, slightly worried about the doctor’s quiet. Hannibal blinked and smiled back, apologetic and kind as ever, and Will’s stomach instantly settled, even with the strange cake glob he kept eating earlier.

 

“My apologies Will, your words sent me deep in thought.” Hannibal hummed, looking alarmed at the strange mess Will made on his plate.

 

“Care to share?”

 

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

 

“Oh, fuck my comfort.” Will snapped, his nerves creeping back up on him again, along with that dreaded cake. “Just tell me.”

 

Hannibal considered his words and nodded, taking a quiet moment to gather his thought, always calm and in control.

 

“I find that labeling my relationship to you is… stifling. Giving a name to something closes off the possibility of its potential for development. In truth, my dearest, I much rather not prematurely put a boundary on us. That is why I used such vague terms that was unfortunately misunderstood.”

 

“What other development are you expecting to happen?” Will asked carefully. “Or want, for that matter.”

 

“Anything, really.” Hannibal said with intense solemnity. “As long as I can see you and the little ones.”

 

Will narrowed his eyes. He hated when people skirt around his questions, but Hannibal’s wit excited him and the possibility of a romance with him made his heart pound. “Boundaries are subject to negotiations, Doctor. Moving them without one party’s consent can be seen as an act of war.” The man warned him.

 

His sharp words made the doctor smile and chuckle. “You are absolutely correct on that, my dear.” Remembering his own struggle when he first realized his feeling’s. The man’s uneasy posture, his fidgeting wings… Hannibal imagined he’s going through a very similar thing. He would expect nothing less from his beloved. They were similar, well suited for each other in every way possible. It was only a matter of time until Will could be truthful to himself ad admit his feeling.

 

“Come home with me Will.” Hannibal said, deciding for the man paralyzed with his own imagination. Will gave him a look before nodding. This time, his wings hummed serenely in agreement

 

***

 

On the way to Hannibal’s home, Will began to feel the telltale sights on nausea climbing up his chest. “I don’t feel too great. I think I should just go home.” He mumbled.

 

Hannibal shook his head, brushing away that notion immediately. “If you’re sick then I don’t feel good about letting you drive this late at night. We’re almost there Will, I will examine you and you can take the guest bedroom to rest.”

 

As much as he hated to admit it, Will knew that the doctor’s words made sense, but a lingering sense of pride made him want to speak up and protest, just once more. Before he could do so, his nausea decided to ramp up and Will immediately focused all of his energy to preventing the mess of bile and chicken from splattering against the doctor’s Bentley.

 

When Hannibal pulled up to garage, Will all but flew out the door and promptly stumbled into the nearest toilet. He retched and gagged, spewing out the remnant of their dinner in a slurry of taupe and pink.

 

Hannibal slowly knocked on the open door. “Will? Are you okay?”

 

“’S’fine.” He burped, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “This always happens when I eat out.” _‘Or eat in general’_

 

The doctor made a small sound of discontent and kneeled behind him, brushing his hair away from his forehead and caressing the arch of his quivering wings. “There, there.” He hushed reassuringly. “Let it all out Will. You will feel much better then.”

 

Will nodded, to sick to be bothered by the doctor seeing him at this state. He continued to empty his stomach, until there was nothing more to retch up and his throat was sore from coughing. Limp and exhausted, Will sagged against Hannibal’s steady body. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to stink up your bathroom.”

 

Hannibal hushed him and flushed the content of the toilet bowl, slowly urging Will to his feet to help him clean up as much as he could. “May I take your shirt, Will?” Hannibal said when he noted the stain on Will’s arm. The man nodded and went to unbutton his shirt, but his hand was too shaky to even grasp at the smooth pearlescent buttons.

 

“Here, let me.” Hannibal said, deft fingers working down Will’s chest. He imagined disrobing the man many times before, but never in this sort of situation. His fantasies were about tender lovemaking and rough claiming, all returned with the reverent gaze of blackened eyes. Still, the gentle nuzzles Will placed on his collarbone were all worth the stench.

 

“I’m not usually this useless.” Will mumbled weakly as Hannibal helped his wings pull free of the shirt. He always have trouble doing that at home.

 

“You may also feel fatigued by the many difficult interactions you were subjected to today” Hannibal explained, noting with alarm the way his wings are beginning to sag and shed. It was a trifling amount, but it still stabbed at Hannibal’s soul nonetheless.

 

“I didn’t realize just how stressful this outing was. I’m apologize. You’ve had a difficult enough time at work. You shouldn’t be subjected to something this damaging.” The doctor said, feeling a foreign sense of self-loathing creeping up his chest. He’s not used to being wrong, and in the event that he was, Hannibal knew just how to twist himself out of being held accountable. Now that he sees these beautiful wings withering, the guilt was unescapable.

 

“Don’t give yourself too much credit Doctor. I’m fine. It’s just the food. It’s always the food.” Will insisted as he turned around and leaned his bare torso against Hannibal’s. “I wonder why I can only eat the food that you cooked?”

 

The innocent musings made Hannibal inside seize in alarm. He couldn’t possibly tell Will that the very meals he sing praises for was made from human meat. Will isn’t ready, and no matter how soft and affectionate he seemed right now, the man would completely

 

“You must associate me deeply with trust, security, and friendship. Food is a very intimate thing Will, and you have a very powerful subconscious that not only echoes other people’s feelings, but also amplifies your own.” Hannibal explained, thinking up an excuse that was the farthest thing from cannibalism.

 

“So I’m an overdramatic picky eater? My father is rolling in his grave.” The man scoffed.

 

“There is nothing wrong with being picky Will. If this is your new normal, then I will be more than happy to accommodate you.”

 

“I can’t have you feed me every day, Doctor.”

 

“Would an extra four days make that much of a difference than our current arrangement?” Hannibal argued softly against the smooth feathers tickling his cheeks.

 

Will didn’t answer. His eyes were blackened and half lidded. The man was already asleep, nodding off while standing against Hannibal’s chest. “My sweet darling.” Hannibal sighed. His wings twitched, though Will remained silent, too exhausted to answer.

 

Hannibal muttered sweet nothings to them, soothing them when they rustled in alarm as Hannibal bent own to carry Will in his arms. “Be calm my dears. Let me take care of you.” He said, and they settled quietly, reverberating the unique sound that only they could produce.

 

After undressing the man as much as he deemed it proper, Hannibal gently slid the warm blanket over the silently slumbering man. His wings threw them off, opting to cocooned over Will, though they remined open as if waiting for Hannibal to crawl in and warm Will’s bed. The doctor chuckled, placing gentle kisses on the sharp talons to placate the needy little things.

 

“Sleep tight Will.” He said before exiting the room and closing the door as quietly as he could.

 

***

 

The clock reads two am when Will woke up to check it. He labored over to the bathroom, brushing his teeth to get rid of the awful taste of stomach acid and red velvet cake. Will was ready to climb back to bed when he caught the scent of bumbling soup and heard the faint sound of sizzling vegetables.

 

He tiptoed down to the kitchen in a pair sweatpants he didn’t remember putting on. Following the sound and scent, Will found Hannibal on the stove, busy chopping, stirring, and deboning a large piece of meat before dropping the large bone into a stock pot.

 

Like an animal catching the scent of another, the man looked up and found Will standing there, his hair still mussed up with sleep and face completely confused at the sight before him. “Will, what are you doing up?” He said, washing his hand before he took Will’s cheeks and pull him close. “Are you in pain? What happened?” he said, quickly scanning him for abnormalities.

 

Other than his messy hair and sleep lines, the man looked healthy and rested. Hannibal frowned at the sight of his listless wings, though he couldn’t exactly say whether they’re just waking up or they were wilting before his eyes. Either way, Hannibal does not like to take any chances.

 

He pulled Will to his seat usual seat. “Wait just a moment. I’ll have something ready in just a moment.” Hannibal said, caressing away the pillow marks on the man’s confused face.

 

Will closed his eyes breathed in the wonderful scent that is wholly Hannibal alone. His aftershave had faded, replaced by a pleasant musk that told Will that Hannibal hadn’t even bothered to change before he started cooking. Then there was the scent of clove and oregano, piquant and warm, just like the doctor himself. “Why aren’t you sleeping Hannibal?” Will asked when a bowl of simple broth and rice was placed in his hand.

 

“I wanted to have something ready for breakfast.” He reasoned, turning the bright red piece of loin he has in his hand and slicing it into thin even pieces. “I would imagine how famished you must be in the morning.”

 

Will wanted to protest, but held it off until he had polished off the food in his bowl. How could the man make simple broth and rice taste amazing. “You don’t have to do that.” He said guiltily.

 

“I want to.” Hannibal said, cheery as ever as he seasoned the meat with a bright red powder that smelled absolutely divine.

 

“But I feel fine now.” Will almost whined. It’s terribly adorable really, but the doctor simply couldn’t let Will get his way.

 

“My dear, I have learn to accept you coming to me in shambles, but I refuse to sit by and see these things molt from my lack of care.” Hannibal said, pointing to one lone feather on the floor. “Now then, please make your way back to bed. I will wake you when it is time for breakfast.”

 

“But-“

 

“No buts. Doctor’s orders.” Hannibal smiled. He went over to Will to take away his empty bowl, stopping just a moment to brush his wayward hair. “Do let me take care of you, okay Will?”

 

The man nodded quietly and let himself be lead out the kitchen. “Goodnight Will.” Hannibal said. For a moment Will expected the man to lean in and kiss him, but Hannibal merely grazed his nose behind his ear, taking note of the sweet sleepy scent that slumber brings and leaving the man alone  on the bottom of the staircase.

 

After that kind of send off, how could Will return to bed and expect sleep to find him again? In the kitchen was the irrefutable evidence of Hannibal’s love for him. For what reason other than love could drive a man to cook at two am in the morning? What other reason other than desire would make him place a Will on the same pedestal as a god? Even the words seemed trite and small to encompass the man’s feelings. It’s a tidal wave of emotions, ebbing away at Will’s hesitance before engulfing him in pure adoration.

 

Why should Will ever be afraid? Hannibal was good for him in every way.

 

***

 

Maybe it was the intense smell of meat in the slow cooker or the hazy plumes of steam from multiple stockpots, but Hannibal didn’t realize Will sneaking up on him until he was close enough to touch.

 

“Will.” He smiled, greeting the man before he could pull whatever mischievous plan he was hatching. “It’s quite dangerous to sneak up someone cooking.” He said. A low rumbling chuckle came from behind him, a bare chest pressed against his black tuxedo shirt. Hannibal froze in place, standing still as Will embraced him with his arms around his chest and waist.

 

“I said I am feeling much better doctor.” Will whispered into Hannibal’s ear. The man swallowed hard, all of his trans of thoughts derailed as he felt soft lips placing kisses along his neck. “You’ve had a long day too Hannibal. Will you let me take care of you now?”

 

There was no other conceivable answer other than yes, and so Hannibal nodded, quietly watching as Will glided out of the room, waiting for him just under the awning. He quickly turned off the stove and stepped close, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder.

 

 “Will- You don’t have to-“

 

“I want to.” He said, turning around to face the man. His chest and cheeks were stained with blushes, embarrassed by his own forwardness, but his eyes were determined and sure. They were not black. They were brilliantly blue, unaffected even by own his base desires.

 

Will had finally chosen him.

 

“Will you deny me this Hannibal?” The man asked, raising a provocative eyebrow.

 

“I could never.” Hannibal sighed, completely besotted, and followed Will up into his room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	14. Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will give into their physical desires and and struggled through the differing desires of their heart

As he followed the beguiling creature through the halls of his house, Hannibal could hear his heart pounding in his ears. His hand felt clammy, clutching tightly around Will’s delicate fingers, afraid that the man might slip away and disappear in a flurry of feathers. Will remained. His body naked except for the shorts he wore to bed, ocean eyes downcast, and cheeks ruddy red. The sight was almost virginal, really. Holy. A pink cheeked cherub in the flesh.

 

They reached his bedroom and stood face to face in front of the ancient suit of armor. Their eyes meet, and they broke into sheepish grins like shy teenagers on a first date. Hannibal has killed countless men and even more lovers, but none of them could make his heart race like Will does.

 

Clever fingers reached over to him and helped him disrobe, hands steadier than his as Hannibal uncharacteristic fumbled with his buttons. One by one they were discarded, until he was bare in front of Will with his erect cock hanging heavily between his thighs.

 

The sight of it made Will swallow and blink with hesitated. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Hannibal quickly added, much to his own dismay. “We can just go to sleep and leave this for another day.”

 

“No.” Will said, meeting his eyes with a firm gaze as if challenged by Hannibal’s words. “I want to.” He added gently, stepping close to caress Hannibal’s hard uncircumcised length. “I wanted to for so long.” In an instant every hesitation and doubt faded away from the doctor’s mind. Will was there with him, touching his cock and it felt amazing.

 

“I never done this with a man before.” He admitted nervously, placing his head on Hannibal’s shoulder to listen to the man sigh and hum at his touch. “Teach me?” Asked Will, shy and coquettish all at the same time.

 

A tender emotion seized Hannibal’s chest, cutting through the thin mist of lust that threatened to overtake his mind. “Of course my dearest.” He whispered, leaning in to kiss the question away from his pouty lips.

 

It was chaste and brief, a mere preview of what’s to come, but Will was already addicted, pressing his whole body against Hannibal’s and deepening their kiss with curious little licks. With an enflamed groan Hannibal swept him up in his strong arms, carrying the man as they devoured each other’s mouth, too impatient to let Will go now that he has him in his arm.

 

Angelic white wings fluttered in protest as he deposited the man in the lush bedding on his bed, his sheathed talons hooking behind Hannibal’s back to keep the man close. “Behave.” Hannibal rumbled as he grabbed the sensitive arch of those rebellious wings. Will eyes glazed over as a lewd moans escaped his lips.

 

“Do that again.” He whined, burying his face in the pillows as Hannibal put his strong hand over the very wings he helped deliver and pushed them down onto the bed. “Ohh… fuck, Hanniba!” Will cursed, eyes rolling back behind his lids. The feathers were alight with an unnamable energy, a living sensual organ for Hannibal to explore and exploit.

 

“Will I need to hold you down while I take you, boy?” Hannibal asked, his voice made rough and deep just from hearing the moans surrendered from Will’s lips. “Or would you like me to hold you gently while I make love to you?” He murmured the question against Will’s jaw, his firm touch turn gentle as he dug underneath the feathers and touch the pulsing flesh underneath it.

 

“I… I don’t know. Just-… please.” Will gasped as he nuzzled into the man’s cheeks. “I need you.”

 

Hannibal chuckled and kissed his way down Will’s slender body, leaving livid red marks that was as painful as they were pleasurable. When he reached his obscenely tenting brief, Hannibal purred, his breath warm against the still covered erection. Even in his most carnal state Will was stunning, elevated from the banality clouded most men in lust. He would eternalize this moment in his memory. On paper. On canvas. On the flesh of the unworthy.

 

With a tantalizingly slow movement, Hannibal peeled the last fabric hiding his beloved him from and beheld in all of his naked glory. “Beautiful.” He sighed, eyes trained onto Will’s blue ones as he savored the feel of him on his palm before taking him into his mouth

 

Wet heat enveloped his sensitive cockhead, sinking deeper, and deeper until Hannibal’s lips was buried in the neat little thatch of hair curled on the base of his shaft. It was maddening. Hannibal knew just how much pressure to put on, how fast to move his head, the devilish ways to curl his tongue to elicit the most pornographic sounds from the man’s lips.

 

“Fuck… Hannibal.” Will hissed, tangling his hand on his neatly combed head, feeling ten feet tall as he witnessed someone as powerful as Hannibal pleasure himself with his mouth. “Don’t stop. God… it feels soo good.” He mewled, sobbing as his hips was held down firmly with Hannibal’s large hand. Will was helpless, pinned by his hands, his gaze, the heat of his mouth. It was heaven.

 

The doctor grinned and obliged him. How could he not? He begged so prettily, like a little catamite trained in the art of seduction. Every single curve of his body was dripping with want, demanding to be owned, and it took everything in him not to flip him over and mount him like an animal.

 

Instead Hannibal reached over to his bedside drawer, quietly finding his lube and slicking his fingers with it while distracting Will with obscene sounds from his sinful mouth. As he sunk deep to take Will’s cock in his throat, his fingers pushed and probed against his tight ring of pucker, the sensitive pink flesh slowly unfurling under his patient ministration.

 

“Oh!” Will gasped when Hannibal slid his whole finger inside of him, hissing as a flutter of pleasure shot up, overwhelming foreign discomfort and turning it into pleasure. “Wait, wait Hannibal I-“ He never finished his words. Hannibal curled his lone digits and began rubbing insistently on the bundle of nerves inside of him. The constant heat massaging his length, the forbidden intrusion that brought pleasure beyond his imagining. It’s too much.

 

“You’re going to make me cum.” Will gasped, writhing and twisting in the sheet as he fought for control. A groan of disappointment was heard when Hannibal pulled away with a disapproving moue.

 

“No.” He decided, sliding a second finger into the tight heat of his rectum. “You’re going to come with me deep inside of you, or you will not come at all.” His words were commanding, absolute, and it shot deep into Will’s soul. He would die for this man. He would kill for him.

 

“Sadist.” Will shot back. “Narcissistic. Sadistic. Perverted- Ow!” His playful tease earned him a playful nip on the tender flesh of his inner thighs. Hannibal could feel his walls squeezed tight in response and stretched them taunt, pushing past his limits until he was a picture of debauched ecstasy. He kept Will tethering on the edge of orgasm, deliberately avoiding his prostate while stretching his deliciously tight walls for his cock.

 

When Will was bucking back into his three fingers like a wanton whore, Hannibal slowly removed them and cradled the man. He slid his lube soaked hand up his spine, grazing the sensitive joint between his wings and his back.

 

Will arched into him beautifully, wrapping his les around Hannibal’s solid hips to grind down on his large cock. “Fuck me.” He whined, hungry for it. Hannibal chuckled and reached over for a condom, only to be pulled back by impatient hand grasping his well-toned arm.

 

“No I don’t want it. I just want your cock. Please please please… I need it in me right now.” Will moaned, licking his lips before adding brazenly. “I want to feel you cum inside of me.”

 

It was  the only sign Hannibal needed to take his boy.

 

He kissed him fiercely, tongues dueling in desperate passion as Hannibal lathered his cock in lube. He placed his throbbing member at the pink hole, rims puckering onto his cockhead like it was trying to suck him it. With a hold that could shatter marble, Hannibal pinned Will’s bucking hips down, taming this creature as he slowly entered him, unrelenting, hard, and burning hot.

 

Will gasped, his eyes wide as he witnessed his body open itself for Hannibal’s thick cock. “Fuck.” He keened, leaning into the burn. “Fuck!” He sobbed, for this time Hannibal’s girthy member has reached past his prostate and mercilessly slid completely inside.

 

It’s tight heat was almost unbearable, the man’s virgin rectum spasming and clenching down on the foreign intrusion fruitlessly. Hannibal persist, to ravenous to be denied. It wasn’t for his own pleasure. He wanted to bring Will into new heights of ecstasy, to worship and revere him like he deserved. He wanted to prove himself strong, a worthy acolyte, a deserving lover.

 

And love he did.

 

Long languid strokes aimed at his prostate sent Will into orgasm, his cock spewing cum all over their abdomen. Hannibal growled and pulled the man up, smearing his spent all over their body as he fucked deeply into his spent lover. Will’s erection didn’t flagged, leaking cum as they moved in tandem, relishing in the pleasure Hannibal expertly pulled from his body.

 

“You feel so good.” He whispered into Hannibal’s ashen brown hair. “So big.” He moaned, clawing marks into Hannibal’s shoulders. His wings were stretched out, rigid as they hummed and rustled to their passionate coupling. Hannibal claimed his lips, his hands grabbing onto the sensitive arc on his wing while the other held onto his hips.

 

Will threw his head back and grinded down, guided by the doctor’s commanding hands. If only Hannibal could be in two places at once, so he could witnessed the majestic coupling of their beautiful bodies as he pleasured the man at the same time.  

 

‘ _A mirror then, for next time.’_ He thought, and Will looked back to him, his blue eyes reading him perfectly.

 

“Or a camera.” He purred. “Maybe you’ll even show me off on those dirty sites for other perverts to jack off to.” The little minx taunted, knowing exactly how his words affected the man.

 

Hannibal eyes darken at the thought and his gentle touches turned brutal and raw. His hips snapped up, intent on fucking Will so thoroughly he wouldn’t have the energy to let his mind wander to _other prevents._ ‘ _You’re mine.’_ He wanted to growl, but only a savage click was heard as his teeth gritted down his anger.

 

Will sobbed, enduring his punishing thrust so beautifully, a victorious smile dancing on his lips. “You don’t want to share me, do you?” He panted as Hannibal’s hips pounded painfully against the back of his thighs. “You want me all for yourself. To claim me. Chain me to you and you alone.”

 

“ _Yes.”_ He growled, an animalistic sound that didn’t sound like the person suit he meticulously built. The sight of the monster elicited a delighted little giggle from Will. The man was toying with him, enjoying seeing his mind unravel just as much Hannibal enjoys unravelling his body.

 

The sound only provoked Hannibal more. He pinned the man down into the bed, bending him in half as he presses in deeply, a relentless force of passion of fury. “ _You’re mine.”_ He said, his voice chilling and so dangerously in love, and Will returned it with an absolute abandon.

 

“And you’re mine.” He said without a trace of that inky blackness in his eyes.

 

They both came at the same time, Hannibal breeding him deep and Will milking him, satisfied in ways only mating animals could feel. Their previous lovers paled in comparison, for no one could ever fit together as perfectly as the two men did. His wings began to float up, euphoric in their pleasure, but Hannibal held him firmly down under himself. He was an unyielding presence, an anchor keeping Will steading and drowning him at the same time

 

When their breath evened and their wits returned to them, Hannibal gently pulled away from the cloying touch of his otherworldly lover. Will pawed at him lazily, to tired to be able to keep him close like he wanted to, but it didn’t stop him from making precious little whines that made Hannibal want to scoop him right back into his arm.

 

He pulled out his cock out, still half hard and pulsing despite the release. Will’s pretty little pucker now gaped, giving a glimpse of the delicious whites of his semen leaking out of his hole.

 

“You terrible boy. Always testing my patience. Look at what you made me do.” Hannibal chided gently, rubbing gentle circles in the divot between his hips and stomach. “You turn gentlemen into absolute beasts, my dear.”

 

Will giggled with glee, delighted that his empathy could be put to use for something much more fun than meeting with the minds of murderers. He hid his face as Hannibal looked to him with such reverence. “I never felt so… worshiped before.” He admitted, blushing at his choice of words.

 

“No?” Hannibal asked, pleased by the innocent little confession that seemed to melted the provocative minx back into a familiar shy little bird.

 

Always eager to top himself and prove other’s wrong, Hannibal smirked and leaned down between Will’s knees. “Hannibal!” Will gasped as he felt Hannibal’s tongue slipped into the slippery fold of his well fucked ass. “Stop! You can’t-“ he groaned, losing his words as soon as Hannibal began truly eating him out. His hand rushed down to pull him down, but Hannibal pushed him away.

 

“No.” He ordered, lips wet with both lube and cum. “You will sit there and watch me properly worship you.”

 

“God.” Will whimpered but nodded. He sat up, upper body half propped against silk pillows, watching the man obscenely lick the cum out of his hole, and pliant as he fondled with the mess on his groin.

 

When Hannibal was done, Wills eyes were completely black as he heaved heavily. The man crawled up to him, feeding the messy spent of their coupling. “More.” Will growled in his demonic voice, talons out and glinting with the same unquenchable hunger Hannibal feel deep in his soul.

 

Will came to him hungry, and Hannibal will always be ready to sate his appetite.

 

 

***

 

Hannibal woke up with a bone deep satisfaction that quickly turned into cold realization. He was in bed alone, Will no longer at his side and his bed cold and empty.

 

He was demoralized. Last night was perfection, an exercise in the exultation of each other’s body. Never in his life has he felt such pure passion and connection. In contrast to the nirvana of last night tryst, to solitude of his bed left Hannibal almost anesthetized.

 

It wasn’t until he found the sheer joy of pure emotions that he realized just how suffocating that numbness could be.

 

There was no trace of Will in his room, not even a droplet of water from the shower or toiletries nudged out of place. Only his scent remained, already fading fast from his sheets.

 

After dressing himself, Hannibal went down to his kitchen and saw the food he made yesterday completely devoured and the dishwasher running on it’s last timer. That puts him at least two hours head of Hannibal. The doctor cursed himself for sleeping so deeply, before chuckling quietly. _‘Did he just sleep with me, emptied my refrigerator and left after his conscience urged him to?’_ Hannibal found it so tragically hilarious that his modes chuckle turned into a full blown belly laugh.

 

“Oh Will.” He sighed, already thinking of the terrible ways he can punish Will for rudely leaving him so. It’s a shame. Hannibal didn’t enjoy marring something perfect and beautiful, but sometimes in order to make marks last, one must be willing to put a knife into them and carve away.

 

He poured himself a glass of refreshing water, sipping on it as he meticulously plan for Will’s torment. The doctor stepped out into his garden, basking in the bright morning sun. It was a pleasant sort of warmth, but the doctor knew that once summer rolls around the blessing of it’s comforting rays can wither even the most delicate flowers.

 

Such was his love for Will Graham, and he will learn it through pain.

 

“Hey!” A resplendent voice caught Hannibal’s attention away from his thoughts. Will was waving from on top of his old oak tree. “About time you get up. I’ve been waiting here all morning!” Will called out. He jumped down form the tree and Hannibal instinctively ran in, ready to catch the man despite knowing just how safe he could be alone.

 

The moment he had Will in his arms again, all thoughts of psychological, physical, and sexual torture vacated his mind. His Will was here, and what a relief it was to find each other after that torturous separation.

 

“What are you doing Will? Why are you wings covered in cinnamon you silly boy?” Hannibal asked, trying to looks disapproving and stern but failing as his face couldn’t hide the sheer gladness blooming in his chest like flowers in spring.

 

Will shook his wings to dislodge the spice still clinging onto them, a sheepish smile on his beautifully dazzling face. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

 

“Does the starling yearn for summer in the bitter chill of autumn?” Hannibal answered, tenderly caressing Will’s face before placing a solemn kiss against his crinkling forehead. “Yes, Will. Completely.”

 

Will was overcome with emotions, acutely aware of the depth emotions hidden behind his mask. The doctor’s heart was laid bare, a wandering bird whose nest migrated with Will’s very steps. He kissed the man, quietly promising that he would never displace this beautiful man and leave him wandering forever.

 

“Hold on here.” He whispered, pacing Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder as he held onto the man’s waist.

 

After his wings quietly rustled and chittered, Will opened them. The magnitude of their size was staggering, enough to wrap around them both threefold in a nest of white feathers that smelled still of cinnamon. With one effortless heave, they defied gravity in a slow ascend, landing on the junction of the tree where the branches grew and formed a flat surface just enough for two.

 

On the small clearing amongst the antler like branches lay red checkered basket laden with fruits and plates of covered food. Hannibal could find the scent of his own special butter on them, especially on the challah bread Will made into French toast. It’s a meager offering, but Hannibal could feel the sincerity in it’s humble presentation.

 

“I thought I should return the favor, seeing how you always seem to be cooking for me.” Will said, shuffling nervously as made room for the doctor to sit. “Do you like it?”

 

Hannibal said nothing. He merely sat down and began eating. Will’s eyes sparkle and widen when he hummed approvingly at the food, and in no time at all, he finished everything Will made for him. It was too much food, but Hannibal stuffed himself nonetheless. He couldn’t bear leaving Will’s offering to waste.

 

 “It’s wonderful Will. Thank you.” The doctor said, kissing the man and pulling him into his lap.

 

For a moment they merely laid there amongst the branches, content in each other’s perfect presence with white wings shielding them from the wind. What a pair they made together. A silent predator whom many claimed to be the devil himself and an angel of a man whose jobs were to hunt down people like him.

 

Somewhere deep in his heart Hannibal longed to confess everything, to wrench open his soul and leave his fate to Will’s heart. He wasn’t lying when he told him that he trusted him, and Hannibal would risk his life and freedom to give Will this perfect gift of clarity, but before he could do so, Will pulled away from him with a guilty look on his face.

 

“What is the matter my sweet?” Hannibal cooed, taking Will’s hand into his and kissing it’s fidgeting digits. “Talk to me. Did you regret what we did last night?”

 

Will shook his head vehemently. “No. I… I supposed I owe you an apology.” He sighed. “I behaved terribly after the wonderful evening you planned for us. It’s just-“ The man sighed, wings chirping in an attempt to help his articulate his feelings. “You’ve given me so much. Your friendship. Your trust. Your… companionship.” Will winced at the word, glaring when Hannibal chuckled from his adorable fumbling.

 

“I wish I could return them equally, but I repress and catastrophize, and I’m pretty slow on the uptake when it comes to interpersonal relationship. Fuck. I’m shit with my emotions Doctor, but I want to try.” He whispered. “I never try with people. But with you, I want to. I… think I’m ready to take this leap of faith.” Will turned to Hannibal, opening the rusted hinges to his heart that has long slammed shut. “Please don’t let me fall and hurt myself.”

 

“Oh my dear boy.” Hannibal sighed, holding back the tears brimming in his eyes. “I will never let anything come to harm you.” He said, and it felt like a solemn oath, more sacred than even the bonds of brotherhood and marriage. This was a covenant, like rainbows after the great flood, a promise to do no harm after the dull pain they’ve inflicted to each other.

 

And Hannibal Lecter always keeps his oaths.

 

“I don’t mind that you’re ‘slow on the uptake’ as you said it. You can take as long as you want to come to whatever conclusion you will arrive to.” The doctor murmured. “We are adults. We don’t have to define this. Right now I am happy just to be able to share your company.”

 

He thought his words would make Will happy, but instead the man stiffened under his touch and turned away from his kiss.

 

“What is it Will?”

 

“I don’t want to ruin the mood.” He said despite knowing full well how harsh his words were becoming.

 

“You can tell me anything. I don’t want to have any ill wills between us. Tell me what’s bothering you dearest. Lets start this thing in the right foot, yes?” Hannibal urged.

 

“There it is again.” Will chuckled darkly. “This _thing_.”

 

Hannibal was suddenly aware of the errors in his words. In his eagerness to give Will the space to come to him, he has alienated the man emotionally. It was gut wrenching to realize. Hannibal would never want Will to be lonely in his presence, but instead of clamoring for his forgiveness and correcting them to save his ego, Hannibal remained silent, attentively waiting as Will gathered his thoughts.

 

“I don’t like it when you say you don’t want to define our relationship.” Will said. He tried his best to be calm, but the words carried the frustration and disappointment he held onto for so long. “I don’t like it when you leave it to me to decide the progress of our… _thing_. God! I fucking hate that word. That and ‘companion’, what a vague non status it is by the way, but I can’t even call it a relationship because I don’t even know what we are!”

 

Hannibal nodded, taking in Will’s anger and frustration with both shame and glee. His Will wanted him enough to be angry with him. And just when Hannibal thought he couldn’t fall for the man even more.

 

“Would you be happy if I were to tell you my intentions Will?”

 

“Yes!” Will screamed “At least I know if I’m in love with someone I’m in a relationship with or just with my weekend fuckbuddy.” He spat out the words, growling at the end of his sentence.

 

Hannibal sighed and turned away from him, looking pensively in to the distance. He thoughts he knew the words to this familiar tête-à-tête. He’s given plenty of reassurances like this to his lovers before, lies flowing easily out of his lips to keep docile animals blind enough to want him until he is done with them..

 

Here with Will he found himself unable to repeat those tiresome old lies. How could he? Will deserved the truth of his heart, the veritas that governed his soul and move his being. He would dare give him nothing less.

 

Just as Will was ready to fly off in frustration Hannibal turned to him whispered quietly.

 

“I want to sleep with you like we did yesterday, not just every weekend, but every night that we could. I want to wake up in the morning, cook you breakfast, and share your company before obligation parted us from each other. I want to help you into your shirt in the morning and out of them at night.”

 

“Oh…” Will blinked, stunned by the vulnerability of Hannibal’s confession. “I never knew. I thought you’re-“

 

Hannibal kissed him, silencing him as he whispered his hopes and dreams against lips that cried out for his name. “I want to bring you to Lithuania and Paris, show you where I grow up, then take you to Italy where I finally became a man. I want to show you the Eifel tower, the pyramids, Everest. Take you to tallest places in the world and fly beyond them. I want to share a scenery with you no man has ever seen before, and then fall off god’s greatest creation and man’s highest towers with you.”

 

“Hannibal….” Will whispered gently. Could this be real? Could someone so perfect for him exist? There Hannibal was before him, his own hinges as rusty as his was, and still the man wrenched it open for him. Just for him.

 

“I want to be your end and your beginning. Will, I want to be your forever.”

 

For a moment they sat in silence, unable to meet each other’s eyes, and Hannibal was sure that he has ruined whatever chance of happiness he has with the man. Gathering his courage and steeling his heart, the doctor turned to face Will.

 

He expected a blank stare or an uncomfortable chuckle from the emotionally stunted man, but what remained there was the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

 

With a sonorous trill of his feathers, Will tackled him out of the tree and laughed in childish glee. They should’ve fall, the laws of gods and men demands it, but they remain in the, upside down, or was the world has been turn on it’s head? Hannibal did not care. Such concerns were too pedestrian for men like him. No matter how confusing his world was Will is his compass. He forever be oriented to him.

 

“Yes.” Will smiled, kissing him with pure unadulterated joy. “Yes Hannibal. Yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	15. Clarity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Will and Hannibal begins their new lives, The Chesapeake Ripper retreated away from everyone’s minds. However, that doesn’t mean that everyone stopped searching for him.

It has been months since the Chesapeake Ripper stopped killing. The disturbing tableau already half forgotten and sensational headlines replaced. It’s easy for people to forget about the Ripper.  Nobody wants a killer on the forefront of their mind. They would rather focus on the everyday trivialities of their lives.

 

For once, Hannibal was grateful for the public’s short memory, for it allowed him to retreat into the safety of anonymity and fade into obscurity.

 

Retiring the moniker wasn’t easy. The Ripper provided means beyond petty revenge to express his deepest and truest emotion. Meat were elevated into art, honored beyond the animals that they are with messages both beautiful and severe. Losing the Ripper was like losing his charcoals and pencils, but Hannibal would not lament on their losses, for now both they, and him, serves a higher purpose.

 

Their petty forgettable existence will be made immortal as they became sustenance for his beloved’s body, and for that reason alone Hannibal has learned to waste nothing, using even the most innocuous body parts even the most dedicated butcher would discard.

 

The blood he could make into blood sausage of different kinds. The excess he would dehydrate, powdered, and mix into confectioner sugar and freeze dried strawberry. It’s one of Will’s favorite icing, which Hannibal would use to decorate everything from his homemade cookies to the cinnamon rolls filled with blood and strawberries.

 

The face he would wax and debone. It’s a tedious process that challenges Hannibal’s surgical skills and culinary limits. When all the meat was released from the skull, he would season everything, roll it into a neat little cylinder; ears, eyes, tongues, and brains included. After securing them with butcher’s twine, he’ll cooked then low and slow in hot oven.

 

The result was a tender and crispy Porchetta, which Will absolutely adored stuffed between his homemade Hawaiian rolls and served with his garlic aioli.

 

The bones he’ll used for stock, the skin as chicharrons, the fat rendered out into his secret homemade butter. Stomach into gumbo. Caul fat into breakfast sausage casings.

 

It’s a labor of love, one that often left Hannibal up until three in the morning, but he didn’t mind it at all. Hannibal had more than enough love to give to the beautiful creature that was Will Graham.

 

Each moment they spent together felt idyllic, and every brief separation torturous. Hannibal toyed with the idea of asking the man to move in, but he held back. An old fashioned side of him insisted on marriage before cohabitation, while the anxious bachelor in him worried about losing the time and space for his many hobbies and interest.

 

However, amongst the weak reasons not toall of them one reason stood paramount above others. Hannibal hasn’t told Will about the ripper, and he refused to begin a new chapter in their life with half-truths and shrouded lies.

 

Hannibal longed to bare his entire soul to Will, but as they spend more time with each other, the more Hannibal became greedy for them. His need for truth and transparency were overshadowed by the way his hands seek Will’s body and adored it through mere touch alone.

 

He doesn’t need to be seen as the Ripper, not when Will saw every other facet of him with perfect clarity. Will knew him as the grieving brother who whispered his sister’s name deep in sleep. He knew him as the sensitive artist, shedding tears over beautiful arias and stunning performances. He knew him as the lover, devoted and kind, who treated his partner like the singular treasure that he was.

 

The other hidden parts of him were laid out under Will’s loving gaze and was accepted, even when he slipped and cussed in front of the man, even when he drank too much and woke up with a hang over, even when his memories overwhelmed him and he could do little but sit there and lament.

 

Will was there to witness all of that, quietly accepting, always tender in his word, and Hannibal knew that he was saying was true because his wings spoke the truth in every one of his rustles.

 

There was no use to hiding his attraction under his penchant for the rarified oddities. Hannibal Lecter was completely in love, and he says it in every serving of food that Will devoured completely.

 

They were perfect together, and in their happiness Hannibal saw no reason to break their tranquility with the burden of a fading monster.

 

***

 

While the rest of the world seemed ready to forget about the Ripper, Freddie Louds did not. Although there were other murderers and serial killers, none of them were as theatrical and accomplished as the Ripper.

 

He’s the type of monster that sells clicks and pageviews, just mysterious enough to keep people guessing, while giving her a plethora of gristly crime scenes to break down for her macabre obsessed readers. Truth to be told, those sick freaks makes up for all of her traffic, and when the rippers stops ripping, her website was as dry as a fifty year old on her menopause.

 

Right now, Freddie really need those pageviews.

 

Her readership was dropping at an alarming rate, and her ad sense was in the negative. _Negative_. The company was charging her money for counting her nonexistent pageviews. She didn’t even know such nonsense existed. She grew too fast to notice such a thing.

 

Something has got to change.

 

“I have a lead on the Chesapeake Ripper.” Freddie exclaimed as he pushed through the glass door to Jack’s office.

 

The head of the BSU was all too familiar with her routine to even spare her a glance. “Good afternoon Ms. Lounds. What can I do for you today?” he said, already bored by this tiresome routine.

 

“Twenty people missing from all around of Maryland this month alone. Baltimore, Delaware, all of the Virginias-“

 

“There’s only two Virginias Freddie. To say all seems a little sensational, don’t you think?” She promptly ignored him and launched into her theories.

 

“All of them matches the Ripper’s victim profile-“

 

“Which is none at all. The Ripper doesn’t have a preferred victim.”

 

“Exactly!” She screams, her fiery curls bouncing as if they were as enraged as she was. The reporter slammed her file onto the table, another hill to add to Jack’s mountain of paperwork. “Hear me out Jack, what if the Ripper just stopped displaying his victims? What if he’s working out of Maryland? It’s the _only_ state that’s clean. No missing victims at all, only a few accounted teenage runaways. I have it all right here, the research is sound and I’m willing to give it to you for-“

 

“For what?!” Jack slammed his fist down. “A scoop? An exclusive? Freddie, you came in last week accusing one of my agents of being the Ripper.”

 

“Technically he’s not a real agent.” She muttered under his breath. Jack stared her down, the fury of a thousand fed up bureaucrats enshrined in his eyes.

 

“He’s real enough to me.” He said with a dangerous sort of quiet.

 

“Will Graham should be your suspect number one.” She said, undeterred. “He lives in the area, he knows well enough about forensics to not leave any evidence, he hunts-“

 

“Everybody out on the sticks hunts. That’s why they’re out there in the first place. Will is an outdoorsman. All he does is fish and he walks his dogs.”

 

“Not since he got together with Dr. Lecter.”

 

Jack pulled a face. “Are you stalking Will Graham Ms. Louds?” he asked.

 

She sends him a self-satisfied smirk. “It’s not a crime to sit in a café and watch the crowd. They are very amorous. Does Hannibal Lecter knows he’s dating a psychopath?”

 

The man groaned and rubbed his face, both sick and impressed by her sheer determination. In another life Freddie would’ve made a wonderful detective, but she chose a different path, and it has led her here, a veritable pain in his neck.

 

“I give you ten seconds to get out of my office before I call security and blacklist you from the premises.” He seethed.

 

She sighed and shook her head, her voice taking on a quality of a persecuted martyr. “You can’t see it, can you? You’re too close Jack. Too attached to your golden boy to see the truth.”

 

“Out.” He said. This time she complied, her own face twisted into a frustrated snarl.

 

“I’ll get you your evidence Jack, but don’t be surprised if my readers get to have first peek.” She hummed, arrogantly superior in her self confidence.

 

When his door was closed and the clicking of her heels faded, Jack took a deep breath and sighed. Somehow the slow calming breath he planned on exploded out of his lungs in a deep guttural scream.

 

Afterwards there was only silence. No faint footsteps or typing of nearby keyboards, no gurgling of the water cooler, even the pipes were silenced by his outburst. Somehow, the absence of noise felt even worse than some of Freddie’s delusional prattling.

 

A timid knock rang on his door. “Jack?” A familiar voice called out. Soothing. Calming. Refined. Everything that Freddie Lounds was not. Hannibal Lecter cracked open his door, a concerned expression plastered over his dignified face. “I heard screaming. Is everything okay?” He asked.

 

Somehow the sight of the mild mannered psychiatrist was enough to send Jack’s simmering rage into a weakened stupor. “Yes, yes. I’m sorry you had to hear that, Doctor. You’ve caught me in a moment of weakness.”

 

Hannibal tilted his head, frowning emphatically at the sight of Jack’s disheveled face and his even more disheveled office. “Would you like to talk about it?”

 

Jack spied the Hermes drawstring bag hanging over Hannibal’s arms, his daily delivery of Will’s lunch. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from Will. I’m already keeping him busy with five open cases. I don’t need to take away his partner’s time too.” He said with a chagrined chuckle, though he wanted nothing more than for the doctor to lend him a kind ear. Somehow Hannibal could always makes things just a little less chaotic. He was a good friend like that.

 

As if he could read his thoughts, Hannibal waved his concerns away and stepped into the office, occupying the space others was too afraid to take with the confidence of a veteran in a warzone. “Nonsense Jack. May I?” He motioned to an empty chair.

 

“Please.” Jack said, feeling the need to straighten himself up in the doctor’s presence.

 

Hannibal said nothing. He merely crossed his legs and looked to Jack, an active listener the moment he was seated down. Usually Jack wasn’t one for a ‘heart to heart’. He was seasoned agent and a leader. His problems are his to deal with and no one else’s. Somehow, Hannibal’s willingness to be there and his compassionate eyes was enough to melt away his bariers.

 

“It’s that Freddie Lounds...” Jack sighed, collapsing into the chair next to him.

 

“She gets to you, doesn’t she?” Hannibal asked, an innocent question that was as loaded as it could get.

 

Jack laughed helplessly and threw his hand up. “She shouldn’t. I’m the head of an FBI department. I should’ve conducted myself better.” He said, saying what he knows was expected of him to save what little remained of his pride.

 

“Jack.” Hannibal shook his head. “I am your friend. I am not interested in an arbitrary measure of conduct. I don’t judge you for falling short.”

 

“But it bothers me. Falling short, I mean.”

 

The doctor nodded understandingly. “We are human. We do that sometimes. We stumble, make mistakes… None of us are as omnipotent as we’d like to be.”

 

Jack chuckled. “I get that, I really do. It’s just…” Jack sighed, feeling the burden of his responsibilities pilling up on his shoulders. “I just currently feel particularly impotent right now.”

 

“In what way?”

 

“Well as you can see,” He motioned to the veritable rushmore of his paperwork. “My workload is just out of control. In in some ways I feel like I’m failing as an agent, a department head,” he hesitated before adding. “And as a husband.”

 

Hannibal hummed and nodded, offering nothing but his acceptance and a packaged container from his bag.

 

“Oh no Doctor,” Jack blinked, suddenly feeling embarrassed by Hannibal’s response. “Please I couldn’t-“

 

“Please. I’ve had a very large breakfast. I only packed mine so I can have something in my hand while talking to Will.”

 

“I grew up in a southern black neighborhood. I recognize a pity meal when I see one.” Jack chided playfully.

 

“Pity has nothing to do with it. Food has magical effect of tiding us over when we are at our lowest. Breakups, funerals, even moments of defeats.” Hannibal smiles. “As a friend there is little I can do to unburden you form your pain, but I would still like to alleviate some of your suffering Jack, even if it’s over something as insignificant  as giving you the convenience of a home cooked meal.”  He said, opening the ceramic Tupperware to reveal a generous portion of shrimp and grits, bitter collared greens, and barbeque ribs, glistening and sticky with homemade sauce.

 

“Wow. Hannibal I-“ Jack smiled and shook his head. He accepted the proffered container, touched by the selfless act of kindness by a man who should resent him. “Thank you.” He said, picking up a fork to try a succulent piece of shrimp. “Hmm! Will’s really lucky to have you.” Jack laughed.

 

“I’m the one who’s lucky to have him.” Hannibal said. It’s a trite reply, almost dismissive in it’s cliché-ness, but the doctor meant it with every fiber of his being. Even someone as hard as Jack could recognize the tender look glazing over Hannibal’s eyes.

 

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “Now I have to admit I was skeptical when I first heard about you two, but the change that I’ve seen in him.” Jack shook his head. “He was this close to having an eating disorder and an emotional breakdown, but as soon as you two connected.” The man smiled, looking like a proud father to the son he never raised. “I see you and I think, ‘Yes. That’s what partners are supposed to be.’ Supportive. Present.” His eyes looked faraway and sad. “I can’t even do that for my dying wife.”

 

“You can still be there for her Jack.” Hannibal smiled sadly and nodded. “Your work? Freddie Lounds? These monsters you’re hunting? You have great capability to endure impossible things Jack. That doesn’t mean you should do so.” He said meaningfully, though upon seeing Jack distraught face he quickly added, “You can be there for your wife, but when you can’t, you can still have her in your thoughts.”

 

“It’s not enough to just have her in my thoughts.” Jack said, and it was the first time that he didn’t sound derisive, ashamed, or angry at his situation. His eyes merely set themselves on the picture frame of his wife, half hidden behind the file Freddie left on his desk.

 

“Then you know what to do then.” Hannibal, proud of his speedy breakthrough. He gave Jack a friendly pat on the back and stood up, buttoning his jacket as he did so. “I’m afraid I can’t keep you company for much longer. I have to find Will before he succumbs to the temptation of the morgue’s vending machine.” He said apologetically.

 

“Thank you Hannibal.” Jack said. “I really mean that. You helped me see what’s important.”

 

Hannibal nodded and turned to exit the office. Just mere steps away from the door he stopped and tilted his head. “Not to lay more unsolicited advice, but I tell this to every one of my clients who suffers from repeated stalking and harassment. Block their number. It’s only a small step, but it can give you immense piece of mind. You need that now more than ever.”

 

“Of course.” Jack said, already reaching out into his coat pocket. “There. Done. Now go. Will is definitely looking for you.”

 

Hannibal exited the office with promises of future dinner invites. As he walked through the familiar walls of the Bureau, Hannibal was filled with a quiet sense of immortality. Just months ago he was on the top of the FBI’s most wanted list. Now, he walked through their offices nodding and smiling to passing agents, sharing a meal with the head of their department like an old friend.

 

Just as god put trials and blessing in man’s lives, his action can in turn bring grief of relief into the lives of these powerful men. He was capable of bestowing tragic cruelty or profound moments of catharsis, and his whims were ever changing.

 

Even in his omnipotence, god still has the few unbelievers challenging his rule. Freddie Lounds was one, spewing heresy that would besmirch his beloved’s reputation. Her very existence threatened the quiet peace they’ve built together, and Hannibal simply couldn’t have that. Ms. Lounds has earned herself a place in the darkest pits of hell, and if god couldn’t smite down one apostate, then Hannibal was as impotent as Jack was.

 

Though nefarious plans and evil schemes flow through his mind like water through a fish’s gills, his though was frozen when he caught sight of the immense wings peeking from the glass doors. He knocked on the glass, the delicate sound contrasting to the way his heart leapt and pound against his ribcage.

 

When dulled sapphires came to life at the sight of his ruby reds, Hannibal knew that beyond the question of gods, hell, and heretics, divinity exist. They lived in the moments where lips touched in greetings, in the pleasured groans stifled between fork tines, in the expectation and gratitude of his presence.

 

Hannibal was no god. He’s a mere worshiper devoted in the active worship of beauty.

 

 

***

 

 

Will has grown accustomed to getting attacked as soon as he got home. His dogs used to be the sole perpetrators, unable to contain their excitement as they rushed him over like war-torn children into their parent’s arms. It was incredibly dramatic, and Will would always end up smiling from their infectious grins and lolling tongue.

 

With an empty house in lonely Wolf Trap Virginia, Will found himself coming home to Hannibal’s place more and more. As far removed from his ‘hounds’ as Hannibal claims to be, he attacked him with the same fervent affection and gusto as his pups did. As soon as the door clicked closed, the Doctor would push him up against any surface and claim his mouth, almost as demanding as his slobber laden rescues.

 

The similarities between them tickled Will to no ends, but he would never tell Hannibal that. He enjoyed being attacked too much to discourage Hannibal’s passion.

 

“God, we just saw each other at lunch.” Will groaned with a grin.

 

Though he understood Will’s teasing tone, Hannibal still frowned at his complaint. “That’s an unkind way to greet your partner my love.” He whispered, rubbing his five o clock shadows on Will’s sensitive name.

 

“Haha- stop! Stop! Okay.” He surrendered, hid deadly wings flailing about happily. “Honey, I’m home!” He sing-songed, shouting it through the halls of the house, laughing even more when Hannibal bit his cheeks in retaliation.

 

“Welcome home my dear. You too little ones.” He grumbled, so terribly besotted that Will couldn’t help but fall in love with him just a little bit more.

 

Will smiled and caressed Hannibal’s cheeks. “I love how you’re such a stickler for decorum, even when we’re alone.”

 

“Greetings are important.” Hannibal said defensively. “It sets the tone and mood for the rest of the interaction. Studies says that couples who-“

 

Feeling playful, Will tackled Hannibal onto his back, his wings cushioning the Doctor’s pretty head from the sharp hit of the floor. “God, you’re so sexy when you quote statistics.” He purred, shrugging off his coat and promptly unbuttoning his shirt. When his pink nipples peeked from behind his shirt, Hannibal’s eyes grew dangerously dark.

 

“You terrible boy.” He hummed, the air stilling with a touch of seriousness that sent shivers down Will’s spine. “Always mocking me in my own home.” Quickly unbuckling Will’s pants and disarmed him with a snap of the leather. The sound made Will flinch.

 

“You think I’m joking?” The man laughed, rubbing his own hardon against Hannibal’s groin. The man stilled and swallowed, his eyes roving over Will’s exposed body as the man rutted urgently against his groin. When he reached up to grab onto his hips, Will got up onto his knees, pulling just out of reach to deny his lover of his body. Will smiled and slid his hand down from his neck, nails leaving faint pink lines until his finger cupped his exquisite package.

 

“Evidence enough doctor?” Will asked provocatively as he reached into his pants and untucked his cock from the confines of his pants. His erection was out, randy and ready to play.

 

Incensed by the blatant teasing, Hannibal growled and reached for his wings. With an expert grapple Hannibal overturned their position until Will had his face planted against the floor, his whole body covered by Hannibal’s sturdy build.

 

“Awful, terrible, boy.” The doctor growled, biting Will’s nape and making his wings spasm uncontrollably. “A menace. That’s what you are.”

 

“Mmmhm, so bad.” Will laughed, yelping when he felt took his belt and wrapped it a little too tightly around his wrist. “Hey!” he said, his provocation melting away as he realized that he was pinned helplessly under Hannibal’s weight.

 

“I think some punishment is in order, yes?” came the gentle question.

 

“Oh wow.” Will scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That is so cliched my cock is already soft- OW!” A hard thwack landed on his rump, leaving raised welts in the shape of Hannibal’s large hands. “What the fuck!” Will yelped, struggling in earnest now that he was been dealt the pain he did not expect to have.

 

Hannibal said nothing. He didn’t chuckle or soothe him with his usual tender words. He merely got up, hauled Will by his bound hands, and wrapped his arm around his torso. The sheer breath was knocked out of Will’s chest, completely taken aback by Hannibal’s strength, but as soon as he found his bearings he lost his words for Hannibal’s fingers had flicked over his weeping cock slit.

 

“Evidence suggest that you like being treated like a dirty whore.” Hannibal growled, rubbing his wetted finger in front of Will’s face until strings of precum spread between them. “So that’s what I’m going to do until you learn your manners _boy.”_

 

Such provocation only made Will angrier. He trashed his body and batted his wings, but Hannibal had him pinned expertly under his arms, carrying like he weight nothing up the stairs and into his bedroom. His pants and shirt were already gone, torn aside by Hannibal’s hands in the struggle.

 

The doctor threw Will into his bed with a cavalier disregard, shedding his jacket and pulling off his tie while. Will could see the veins running through his forearms pulse, and Will was struck with the knowledge that though Hannibal has never harmed him, he could very well do so with ease and efficiency.

 

He let out an inadvertent whimper that was quickly silenced by a cold stare from Hannibal’s predatory eyes. The doctor sat on the edge of the bed and motion him closer, crooking his fingers for Will to come close and pointing onto his lap.

 

There was no mistaking on where Hannibal wanted Will to be.

 

With a small plaintive sound Will crawled, nuzzling onto the man’s shoulders. “Come on Hannibal.” He said, gently asking the man once he found force to be ineffective. Hannibal features softened, tuning around to kiss him softly. A rouse, his seconds after his hands grabbed Will’s neck and had pulled him across his lap.

 

Will couldn’t remember the last time he felt this humiliated before.

 

“Do you enjoy pain my love?” Hannibal asked as he traced his palm over the seductive curve of Will’s body.

 

“No.” he answered defiantly.

 

Amused by Will’s continued insolence, Hannibal raised him hand and delivered a serious of ear ringing slaps that colored Will’s thighs into a lovely shade of fuchsia. Will screamed, cussing out Hannibal’s name with every colorful insult he could think off. No matter how fiercely he growled, his cock remained hard, leaking wet spots onto Hannibal’s dress pants.

 

The doctor raise his knee, sending a low ache against Will’s erection. “Lying?” He tutted. “You’re only adding to your offenses my boy.” He said, slapping Will on his welted rump and holding nothing back.

 

It was just enough force to send all thoughts of defiance out of Will’s confused head.

 

“Please… Please Hannibal…“ but his pleas were cut off with more strikes against his thighs. His whole body stiffened, his toes curled. Everything he had in him was focused on breathing and receiving the pain from Hannibal’s hand. “Hannibal!” he cried, shocked at how hoarse and shake he sounded.

 

“No.” Hannibal said, placing his hand on the blistering hot skin of Will’s abused ass. “Only good boys deserves to call me by my name.”

 

“I-” Will stuttered, completely at a loss of what to say or think. “Hannib-“

 

“No.”

 

“Doctor Lecter please!” he cried, out of his depth and mortified by the whole situation. The only thing exist was Hannibal’s sturdy lap and his punishing hand, holding him down by his nape and threatening to pummel more punishment against his body.

 

“No.”

 

Will sobbed burying his face in Hannibal’s trousers. God, the man was still in his clothes and he could sent him to such a state. He feels so naked, so humiliated and small. It took away all of the defenses he built over the years. There was no space for him to be coy or teasing. There was only this older man, holding him down with his strong hands, completely authoritative in his bearings. Demanding because he knows Will can do better.

 

Will wanted to be better for him.

 

“Please… Daddy…”

 

Hannibal stopped his teasing, breath robbed completely from his lungs by the quietly whispered name.

 

This was supposed to be a sensual experience in manners, a forced return to Will’s southern upbringing with sirs, pleases, and thank yous. Hannibal expected a struggle, a long night to teasing and punishment that resulted in a reluctant relinquish of his pride, but he did not expect Will to look so small, helpless, and completely his.

 

And that word. That dammed word that signaled his hindbrain to grab, hold, and breed.

 

“Hm? What was that?” he asked with a voice just a hoarse as Will’s. “Say that again my pretty little boy.”

 

The little praise went straight to Wills’ cock, and suddenly it all slotted together perfectly. Hannibal takes care of him. Hannibal loves him. Hannibal was always there for him. His protector, provider, the capable man who he would trust his entire life to.

 

Such a man deserves every ounce of respect and love Will could muster up.

 

“Daddy… I’m sorry.” Will sobbed, his body tensing when Hannibal laid his hand over his sore ass and melted as he soothed it.

 

“For?”

 

“For-“ Will hiccupped. “For givin’ you sass-“

 

“…and?”

 

“For not sayin’ my greetin’s.”

 

“… and?”

 

“For lyin’.” Will turned his head, his face red from humiliation and tears. “M’sorry Daddy. P..please don’t be mad.”

 

It was the sweetest taste of surrender Hannibal has ever experienced.

 

“Oh Will.” Hannibal sighed, his stern demeanor replaced by the worshipful voice of a man in thrall. “I can never stay angry at you.” Will whimpered, his sharp mind disarmed by the praise and reassurance of the man he loved.

 

Hannibal gently unbuckled his restraint and laid Will back, chuckling when the man clutched onto him and whimpered “Daddy, Daddy,” into his ears, unwilling to let him go.

 

He kissed Will’s sniveling face, tasting his salty tears and licking into his pliant little mouth. It was perfect, another taboo crossed and experienced shared. There was no questions, no interrogation about kinks or turn offs. They merely reacted to one another, a slow friction before slotting perfectly into each other’s psyche.

 

“You’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you?” Hannibal asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“From now on you’re going to say your greetings and kiss Daddy every time you walk into my house, aren’t you?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“And if you lie or disrespect me again? You know what you’re going to get?”

 

“Gon’ get a spankin’”

 

“That’s right. Daddy is going to turn your behind black and blue.”

 

“Nooo!!” Will held on tighter, though his cock jerked and pulsed at the thought. “No Daddy, I’ll be good!” he whimpered, grinding his cock up to Hannibal, testing his limits. “I’ll be soo good.”

 

“I know you will.” Hannibal purrs, slowly peppering kisses down Will’s pinked chest until the man relented his hold and allowed him to slid down lower. “You’re Daddy’s good boy.

 

Hannibal took Will’s weeping cockhead into his mouth, laving feathery licks as he sucks slowly up and down his shaft. Under him Will shivered and tensed, body arched completely off the bed as he take his reward from Hannibal’s mouth.

 

It feels so good inside, warm and slick and just soo soft. His hips wanted to buck and pump, but Will knew that today was not the time for him to control the pace. His pleasure was Hannibal’s to give, and he will lay there and let the man devour him in whatever ways he wanted.

 

Slowly the gentle bobbing of Hannibal’s head quickened, his larges hands creeping onto Will’s sensitive rump and pushing him deep into his throat. “Oh god. Oh god, please!” He cried, coming silently as Hannibal squeezed his ass and massaged his shaft with his undulating throat.

 

He could taste Will’s release coating the back of his tongue, but Hannibal merely pushed his boy deeper into himself, knowing just how good it was to cum inside a warm, firm hold of his throat. He slowly pulled out, barely grazing his lip around the softening cock, and he allowed himself one indulgent lick over the leaking slit before giving his pliant boy his mercy.

 

“Such a good boy for Daddy.” Hannibal purrs, his face split in half with a grin that made his eyes crinkle.

 

“… you’re a dirty old man Hannibal.” Will giggled, pink cheeked and happy, even after all of that punishment. The sight made Hannibal melt. This boy right there... _His_ boy. He deserved the world.  Will deserved every piece of him, to know him with perfect clarity and to love him without reservation.

 

He deserved the same joy of loving Hannibal completely, and the man knew what he must do to achieve that.

 

“Wait, wait. Where are you going?” Will whined, talons snagging on Hannibal’s belt when the man slid off the bed.

 

“I still have food in the kitchen. I’ll just put it away, alright my sweet?” he murmured, kissing Will’s chuffing wings to appease their displeasure.

 

“No.” Will pouted, wrapping his wings around himself.

 

“Oh?” Hannibal laughed, surprised that Will still had teh energy to be petulantly playful. “No?”

 

“Yes! No leave. Only stay.”

 

“…. You’re becoming very spoiled dear.”

 

“Mmm, and it’s all your fault.” Will purred, rolling onto his stomach until the only thing visible was his great white wings and red rump. His hazy blue eyes turned just in time to catch Hannibal licking his lips. “Please Daddy?” he said, wiggling them with a tone that begets more ravaging or punishment.

 

“Sleep.” Hannibal growled, using his stern voice more for himself than for his boy. “I will wake you up as soon as the food is ready.” He said gently, allowing himself a weakness of one kiss. Will groaned and rolled back, denying Hannibal his kiss with a bat of his wings.

 

“If you’re not going to fuck me then let me sleep until it’s morning.” he grinned, the last words petering off with a yawn.

 

“As you wish.” Hannibal grinned fondly, forgoing his kiss to tapped him on his beautiful nose. “Spoiled. Rotten.” He said to the sleepy man, but as he walked out the door Hannibal turned off the lights and closed the door without letting it click. Will was already asleep before he even reached the banister.

 

***

 

When Hannibal reached his kitchen the door to his pantry was unlocked, and the scratches on it’s keyhole indicates that it’s been picked by a very sloppy burglar.

 

He caught a whiff of cheap motel soap and ambition from the open trap door. Hannibal sighed and closed the pantry door, thankful that he already soundproofed his meat locker in preparation for such invasion. He can’t have his Darling waking up while he’s carving up Freddie Lounds.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	16. Offering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie found her way into Hannibal's home and found something she wished she never did

 

“Where did you go?” Will whined, tugging Hannibal’s arm so he could warm up the cold space beside him. “You were gone for so long.”

 

 

_Faint thumping and moans seeped through the ceiling of the house, evidence of the passionate tryst between the two unlikely men. Freddie was no homophobe, but there was something inherently distasteful about their union. Hannibal was supposed to be the barrier between Will Graham and his distasteful work at the FBI. Instead of putting the man in an institution where he belonged, now he’s fucking him?_

_Something smells terribly off._

_The temptation to sneak in and take a picture of their perverted games was strong, but Freddie refrained, knowing that publishing them would only garner sympathy from the two men and further disdain for her. As desperate as she was for views, Freddie wasn’t stupid enough to do such a thing. The public vilified her, and Dr. Lecter looked like a man who has ruthless lawyer on retainer. Freddie simply does not have the legal fees to fight him._

_Instead she opted to wander on the lower level of the house, quiet as a mouse nibbling on fallen crumbs in a darkened house. She took pictures of the strange ornaments dotting the place, animal skulls, priceless antiques, and a fairly pornographic rendition of Leda and the Swan._

_No wonder Will Graham was smitten with this man. Money and macabre was found in abundance, savagery hidden beneath a refined veneer in the unassuming doctor’s living space._

_Maybe Hannibal Lecter was as equally fucked up as Will Graham was. Now that’s an angle she can run on._

_When she got into the kitchen, Freddie stopped at the sight of a heart marinating in oil and garlic. She was no cook, but decades of leaving through autopsy reports and crime scenes photos made her aware of what she was seeing. It was too small to be beef or pork, and much too large to be anything from any poultry. A chill ran down her spine as she was suddenly reminded of the Ripper’s penchant for taking surgical trophies._

_Maybe the doctor was even more fucked up that Will ever was._

 

 

 

Hannibal chuckled and placed gentle kisses on his beloved’s forehead, rousing him up from his sleep despite his wing’s rumbling protest. “I thought you might be peckish.” He explained, a plate of warm food balanced in one hand as he nuzzled Will awake.

 

Despite his irritation at his lover’s absence, Will perked up at the decadent piquant scent and lazily opened his mouth. Finding it impossible to deny Will of anything, Hannibal indulged the man and offered him a forkful of eggs and black sausage, all smothered in a bright red sauce. “Tortilla de Morcilla.” He said, adoring eyes never leaving Will’s as he waited patiently for the man’s reaction.

 

Will purred in approval, grabbing the fork for himself as he shimmied up against the headboard and devoured his next bite.

 

“Oh… it has a kick to it.” Will exclaimed, excited for a little bit of spice that reminded him of Louisiana signature Old Bay seasoning.

 

“It most certainly does.” Hannibal agreed, lounging in his robes as he watched Will speared a piece of Freddie Lound’s lifeblood onto his fork.

 

 

 

_Hannibal wasn’t surprised to find her in his basement. Vultures like her scavenges from real predators like him like he was their lifeline. He has seen her kind before. The soldiers who stormed his family’s cabin, the butcher who dared disrespect his aunt, the useless medical students that spread rumors about his past. Freddie Lounds is a mere scratch in the long list of impudent swine that has crossed his path._

_Like the ones before her, Hannibal will devour her completely_

_Freddie stood with her mouth agape before his butchering station. In front of her hung various bisected human bodies, all hanging to develop their flavor before Hannibal deemed them worthy to feed to his beloved._

_Before the reporter could place her dirty paw on his well oiled butchering block, Hannibal flicked off the light switch and tackled her onto the ground. Freddie legs kicked wildly, trying to escape from the ambush she did not anticipate._

_Disoriented and erratic, Freddie dug her sharp nails into Hannibal’s shoulders, adding to the myriad of scars that came from Will’s blunted nails. The man was suddenly filled with a surge of possessive disgust. How dare she marked up somewhat that was not hers._

_He will make sure to destroy her._

_Freddie grabbed blindly for her purse, knowing that finding it was her only chance to escape away from this monster on top of her. Her hands found the leather handle, jerking it towards her as she dug in to find her emergency taser._

_In the dark, Hannibal merely though her struggles to be one of a prey’s desperate death throes. Out of nowhere two metal prongs dug into the sides of his neck and his whole body began to cramp, seizing up like a body halfway through rigor mortis._

_Momentarily free of her captor, Freddie took her chance to escape, feeling blindly for a door, a step of stairs, for anything. She found refuge in a small closet and slammed the door close, but once she made sense of the space she stepped into, cold dread filled her slender body. She had just trapped herself into a dead end._

_She scrambled around her bag for her phone, fumbling finger searching through her contacts until the name ‘Crawford’ was on the top. She tapped it, relieved that help will soon be here._

_The phone rang once before going straight into voicemail. It was then that Freddie Lounds knew that she was going to die._

“You’re just too goddamn perfect.” Will shook his head, scrapping the last of his omelet and the empty plate on the bedside table. “The sun isn’t even up yet, and here you are serving me food. How am I supposed to compete with that?” he complained, hiding the very real anxiety underneath a self-depreciating joke.

 

Seeing through the man’s wry humor and flippant attitude, Hannibal pulled down the blanket Will used to cover his face so that he could meet his eyes. He tugged the man’s stubbly chin, forcing him to meet his deep dark eyes.

 

“You’re my good boy, remember? My job is to spoil you.” Hannibal placed a kiss between Will’s brow. “To cherish you.” Another landed onto the tips of his nose. “And to make you feel special and loved, because you are special, and my love for you knows no bounds.” Hannibal murmured, pressing his lips against Will’s so the man could feel just how much that confession burned at his soul.

 

Will blinked, completely taken back by the earnestness in the man’s voice. “Oh…I-I…” He stuttered, biting his lips and curling his wings around himself, unaware of the black void overtaking his eyes. “I don’t know what to say…”

 

 

 

“ _Oh my god. Jack! Please pick up. It’s Freddie Lounds. I was wrong it’s not Will Grah-“ She shrieked, thrown forward onto the ground, the door shaking from the sheer impact of Hannibal’s body. An eerie knock rapping onto the wood before it was followed by another vicious slam._

_“It’s Hannibal Lecter! Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper!” She sobbed, covering her face as the door exploded, shards of wood hanging on the hinges. Hannibal stepped in, shrouded in shadow as the light behind him illuminated an outline of a man, but Freddie knew that what stood before her was a vicious monster._

_“Please Jack…. I don’t want to die.” Freddie whimpered, hanging up the phone to make sure her message was sent to the agent’s voicemail._

_Hannibal stepped closer into the small confined space, sending her scrambling back against the many hard shelves that lined the walls. She whipped up her taser up, standing up onto her feet and knocking a myriad of thinsg down in the process. Various metal tool littered the ground, showing the glint of their sharp and pointed edges, every one of them an instrument of pain and death._

_“Please…” She whimpered, fear paralyzing her so much that she couldn’t even hold her taser straight._

_Hannibal stopped in his tracks and reached up to tug on a small chain in the middle of the room. A single lightbulb flooded the space with stark fluorescent light, finally revealing the doctor’s hidden visage. Unlike her’s, his face remained blank and unbothered._

_“It’s no use, Ms. Lounds. Jack has blocked your number weeks ago.” Hannibal said calmly. “As a psychiatrist and a friend, I was the one to counsel him to do just that.”_

_Freddie sobbed, the taser pried away from her grasp with minimal effort. Hannibal placed it onto the shelf as if he was putting back something a child had knocked over, even taking the time to make sure it was standing up straight. He looked onto the things she knocked over with disapproval. Freddie paled, knowing very well that it was one more transgression added to an already long list of misdeeds. Hannibal tilted his head to the side, waiting for the apology he was most definitely owed._

_“I’m… I’m-“_

 

 

 

“I’m sorry.” Will mumbled. “I’m not good at this… relationship thing.” He sighed. Will’s eyes warbled like liquid onyx as he struggled to keep himself in check. Hannibal threw his head back and laughed, a warm, sonorous thing that made the man’s feathers perked in attention.

 

“My dearest Will.” Hannibal chuckled. How wonderful was his boy. So honest even in his weakened attempt at deception. Hannibal hoped that when they’re both grey and old, Will would still be as desperate and unsure of his love. To endlessly reassure him of his devotion would be a Sisyphean act, but one he will bear with great honor and delight.

 

Upon hearing Hannibal’s laughter, Will winced and wrapped his wings around himself, feeling foolish for showing his insecurity so easily.

 

“Oh no.” Hannibal tutted when Will’s talons slotted into each other. The doctor stroked his wings, asking permission to come into his feathery nest, and like eager children they opened and embraced him into their folds.

 

Will watched Hannibal with unblinking eyes, more animal than man as his mate carved a space inside his sanctuary. “You’re not allowed to escape me.” Hannibal said with a possessiveness he has never felt for anyone else before.

 

“… No?” Will chirped, blinking up at Hannibal, both relieved and uneasy at the finality of his tone.

 

“No.” Hannibal growled back. “You’re mine now, my dear.”

 

 

 

_Freddie knew that escape was impossible, but even as she was strapped onto a gurney with her blood dripping into a bowl of oatmeal, suet, and onions, she still struggled to get away._

_“Be still or I will break your spine and immobilize you that way.” Hannibal said, shutting off the valve that feeds into a central line of tubes. When the woman ceased her struggling, Hannibal turned his full attention to the sausage mix, incorporating everything before deftly stuffing the content into the prepared sausage casing._

_“You’re sick.” Freddie said, feeling lightheaded from the blood loss._

_“Lovesick, perhaps.” Hannibal answered, rolling the large coil of sausage into individual portions. “Otherwise, I feel perfectly sane.”_

 

_Finally finished with her, Hannibal gagged Freddie and pushed her into a small room he kept for live meats. He closed the sound proofed door and tidied up his station, taking the bowl full of freshly rolled links up into the pantry to hang._

“Are you still hungry, my dear?” Hannibal asked, knowing that whenever Will’s eyes were like this the answer will always be yes. “I have some delightfully fresh blood sausage downstairs. Come down with me and I’ll teach you how to fry them up properly.”

 

Will blinked slowly like a curious little barn owl. “Blood?” He asked, reflexively swallowing his saliva. “Blood?” He bit his lips and pawed at Hannibal’s chest, his wings throwing themselves open in excitement.

 

“Yes my love. And you can have as much as you want.” Hannibal cooed, his chest crushed underneath the sheer weight of his hopeful heart.

 

 

***

 

 

Though the salacious rumors of their relationship has died down to a quiet envy and even fond approval, Will found himself still longing for Hannibal just mere minutes after their separation. Tonight they won’t be dining together. Hannibal has been called upstate to tend to a particularly wealthy and demanding client, leaving Will alone in his Wolftrap home and today, he was uncharacteristically lonely.

 

Instead of dog fur and dust, his home was now littered with reminders from the man. A cream colored sheepskin blanket was thrown over his old worn couch, a Lecter heirloom luxuriously lounging in his humble home. Books that he borrowed and never bothered to returned piled high on a mantlepiece Hannibal commissioned for his broken fireplace. On the other end was a growing pile of opera program, each one a memorable outing that Will has slowly grown to enjoy.

 

Hannibal inhabits the space even in his absence, and Will found some comfort in the evidence of their shared lives.

 

It’s comfortable and quaint, but without the man or his dogs, the house was akin to an empty tomb where the dead in his mind can sprung back to life. His only company was his wings, and though they trilled and rumbled animatedly in Hannibal’s presence, with him they were as quiet as he was.

 

He didn’t mind. Hannibal brought so many different sides of him that he didn’t even know he had. It’s only natural that his body respond to him in kind.

 

Will settled in and ran his hands through the collection of books he’s already read, restlessly roving over the familiar spines for one to catch his interest. He didn’t feel like reading any of them again, but his eyes caught a leather-bound hardcover stuffed under a pile of graded student papers. He reconized the book and frowned.

 

It was the book that Alana returned on the night of his wing’s arrival.

 

Compared to the piles of unreturned books on his mantlepiece, Will had swiped this particular piece out of Hannibal’s library without him knowing. Where other couple may settle into their relationships and ease off on their need to be together, Will remained possessive and jealous of the man’s attention. The sight of the book just reminded him of Alana’s desires for Hannibal, and Will wanted to remove all traces of her presence from his partner’s life.

 

It’s a childish act that borders on insecurity, and Will felt rather silly for doing it. Hannibal has been nothing but devoted to him, and before any of this mess even happened, Alana was one of their beloved friends. Without Hannibal and his dogs, Will began to understand just how much he missed her friendship.

 

Though he had kept his complaints about her to a minimum, Will knew that it was enough for Hannibal to rescind his welcome for his longtime student and friend. No longer did he seek her counsel or invite her to dinner, and her reserve lay untouched on the back of the fridge, buried behind the many produce he dedicated for Will’s sustenance.

 

Even the sight of those beer bottles filled Will with a strange mixture of jealousy and guilt. Jealous because when it comes to the doctor, Will wanted nothing more than to completely own the man, to be the sun the pulls him into his orbit, for the man to be as cold and bereft as he was without him.

 

As a rational adult, he knows that such a thing was not healthy nor sustainable. Infatuation will soon settle into quiet admiration, even as in love as they both are with each other, Will doesn’t want to isolate the man like he isolated himself.

 

It was unfair that his unresolved issues were forcing Hannibal to abandon the friendships he had long cultivated There was so much joy in the passing comfort of other people. Will never wanted to deprive Hannibal of that. He wanted to give the man every ounce of happiness this fleeting human existence could give, and that includes Alana’s passing friendship.

 

Deciding that he will no longer be ruled by petty emotions, Will grabbed a six pack of beer from his fridge and threw them onto the passenger seat on his car. It was time to make peace.

 

***

 

Alana’s home was located in the wealthy suburbs of Stone Ridge Virginia. As a accomplished professor and a sought out psychiatrist, Alana’s secured herself a family home worthy of being proud of. In another life Will might’ve pursued her and had this place as his home, filled with the warmth of family and children.

 

Will rang the doorbell and waited on the front porch, trying to quiet his mind as it extrapolated Alana’s landscaping crew’s financial woes from the jagged cuts on her lawn’s grasses.

 

“Hi.” Will said, hoping to greet her with a smile that doesn’t seem to anxious or awkward for his face. “You should change your lawn service. They’re using bad equipment and overcharging you without replacing them..”

 

Completely caught off guard by his arrival and critique on her adequate lawncare, Alana stared at him with her arms crossed over her chest. “Do we still do social visits?” She asked, more amused than unfriendly.

 

Will raised his offering. “I brought beer.” He weakly said, hoping that it would be enough to buy his way into her home.

 

Ever the gentle soul, Alana smiled and opened her door. “I guess we still do. Come in.” She said, ushering Will into her home.

 

Carefully tucking his wings close and walking through the door, Will twisted off the cap from two bottles and handed Alana one of them, and for a while all that they wer able to do was just stare at their respective beverage. She nursed her bottle while she watched Will chug his, her face impassive even as the man promptly reached for a second bottle. When he pulled up a third, Alana caught his hand.

 

“Are you okay Will?” She asked in what he recognized as her psychiatrist voice.

 

“Yeah. I’m good.” Will waved his hand. “But we’re not, aren’t we?” he said, going straight to the point.

 

Alana’s cheeks pinken as she was reminded of their heated exchange in his classroom. “No, I suppose we’re not.” She quietly admitted, draining her bottle and twisting the cap off a second one.

 

Satisfied now that they’re on an even baseline, Will nodded and pondered on his next words. “I’m sorry for how we left each other last time.” He said, wincing when he remembered their conversation. “It was really quite hostile and it’s not how I wanted our relationship to be.”

 

Alana shook her head, relaxing at his apology. “I was the one that was out of line. I should’ve have tried to meddle in your business.” She said graciously. On other people it would’ve looked disingenuous and fake, but Alana was the perfect picture of earnestness. “You’re an adult and I had no right to discuss your personal life with Jack.”

 

“Did you do it in my best interest or because you were attracted to Hannibal?” Will asked, genuinely interested. Alana looked stunned at his question, thinking that she had buried her interest in Hannibal away from other people, but she quickly recovered.

 

“Both.” She said, wincing gingerly at how terrible it made her sounds. The answer made Will laugh

 

“I think you should keep drinking, because right now you’re not being truthful.”

 

“I am.” Alana insisted. “I had some lingering feelings for Hannibal, yes, but I was also worried that he was taking advantage of you. You were his patient, and he was in a position of power.” She began rubbing on the label on the bottle, a nervous tick that comes up whenever she was telling people half truths and lies.

 

“I’m never powerless when I’m with him.” Will bristled slightly, defensive of his partner’s honor. “Do you know that we’re together now.”

 

“I heard rumor. Is it official?” Alana asked, her disappointment palpable in the air. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” She said, more sad that happy for Will.

 

“Yes.” Will said quietly, focusing on his beer bottle so he could control his anger. “Look, I didn’t come here to gloat or argue. I just wanted you to know that I think that it’s a shame that you two are no longer friends. I don’t want to be the cause of that, so-“ Will groaned and finished his third bottle, already regretting his visit. “Take that as you will. I really don’t care anymore. Just don’t tell Hannibal I came over.” He muttered, making his way out of the door.

 

Before he could reach the door, Alana stopped him, looking both alarmed and apologetic at Will’s reaction. “You’ve had three beers Will. You shouldn’t drive.” She said. Her concern for him was so beautiful that It made Will so angry that she couldn’t see past her jealousy to meet him halfway.

 

His wings bristled in a mixture of anger and disappointment. Will could really use a friend like her, but he refused to subject himself to the volatile whims of her unmet romantic whims. Who cares if he’s alone. He has Hannibal, and that is more than enough, and for a man as wonderful and kind as Hannibal, he did not deserve the company of those who does not take his relationship seriously.

 

His phone beeped, breaking the uneasy tension between the two. “Don’t really have a choice.” Will muttered, showing Jack’s text to her. “The Ripper calls.”

 

Will stepped out of her house with long strides and an uneasy heart. There was so much more he could say to her, so many things unresolved and unamended, but it didn’t matter. Will didn’t need other people’s acknowledgement or acceptance. His place is in Hannibal’s arms, and he will find his peace there, even when the Ripper’s nightmares overwhelmed him.

 

 

  
*** 

 

 

“He’s back.” Jack said, clapping Will’s back with a hungry gleam in his eyes. “He’s back!”

 

Will nodded curtly and slammed his car door closed, steeling himself as he approached the swarm of FBI agents crowding over an effigy of some kind. “Clear the space please.” Wills aid, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. He shouldn’t have drank so much too fast. The effective barrier of his mind were now lowered, like a body without an immune system, susceptible to infections. He didn’t want to welcome Hannibal back home with a killer in his head, but if it’s the Ripper, he might not have a choice in the matter. The man has been running around for far too long.

 

His wings spread and rose behind him, talons out as his body prepared itself for the incoming horror. One by one the agents dispersed, leaving Will alone with the figure on the tree.

 

Will was stunned into place when he recognized the victim’s face. Patches of her hair was ripped out of her head, but tuffs red hair still remained on the places where her scalp still hung.

 

Her hands were spread wide, and the skin and flesh off her limbs were peeled back into long, thin, translucent strips. Each morsel of meat was pinned in place with a lock of her red hair. They were folded and arranged to look like individual feathers, a precision scalpel cuts to indicate every individual tuff.

 

The chest cavity was emptied and was filled with maggots and rot, but where her heart was were bouquet of white flowers, nourished by the composting filth inside of her and untouched by the insects.

 

Will knew the name of those flowers were one that bears his name, and it colors matches his wings.

 

“So?” Jack asked impatiently, tapping Will on the shoulder after giving the man almost an hour in front of the horrific effigy.

 

“It’s not him.” Wills said curtly, turning around and walking towards his car with urgency in his steps.

 

“Wait, Will!” Jack called, confused by his sudden departure. “But the display! The missing organs!”

 

“It’s not the Ripper.” Will growled, shoving Jack’s hand away from him. _‘It’s Hannibal.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	17. Fallen Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will confronts Hannibal and learns about the terrible truth of his existence

 

The drive over to Hannibal’s place went by a blur of white snow that flashes back and forth into images of flowers in Freddie’s chest. They call to him, a crime scene gift wrapped especially for him, where only he could see the beauty in the macabre.

 

Will knew that only a madman could find beauty in the annihilation of another person’s body, but despite knowing this, his soul soared at the sight of the masterpiece. More than art, more than horror, Will saw the work as what it was intended to be. It was an offering, a gift to celebrate his monstrous condition that only the doctor knows about.

 

Seeing himself so elevated in Hannibal’s eyes was almost unforgivable. There was no doubt that Hannibal used every skill in his arsenal to decimate Freddie and remade her To know that he was the cause of such violence, the inspiration for such ugliness…

 

‘ _No.’_ Will swallowed hard. ‘ _It wasn’t ugly at all.’_  The man thought. The sight may be horrific and chilling, but it was far from ugly.

 

Without letting the satisfaction of Freddie’s death get to him, Will pulled up to Hannibal’s home and stepped out of the car. New snow crunched under his feet, flurries landing gently on his lashes. The grand door to Hannibal’s home opened, with the doctor standing there, back from his trip, waiting for his beloved with a peaceful smile on his face.

 

He looked calm. Tranquil. Excited even. Will’s body react before his mind could stop it, and he strode up the stairs and fall into Hannibal’s waiting arms. He’s so warm, so kind, and it’s hard to imagine those same fingers tangling in his hair was the same one that peeled Freddie’s flesh from her bones. His wings rumbled with barely contained emotion, and it was the only noise audible in the air as the streets were quietened by the new snowfall.

 

“Is there something you want to say my love?” Hannibal asked, murmured brushing Will’s sweat laden hair away from his face.

 

His great white wings fell to cover his face, and Hannibal parted them like Moses parted the red sea. They were a force of nature, dangerous in his own right, but in his hand they trembled and fell astride, helpless to deny the only family they recognized as theirs.

 

“I…” Will shook his head, avoiding Hannibal’s warm dark eyes. “I can’t.” he gasped, tears brimming on the edges of his eyes. “If I say it out loud then it will come true.”

 

Hannibal looked at him with a sad fondness that only a man like him could conjure up. “Oh Will, my sweet boy.” He sighed, anointing his head with small kisses of adoration. “I wanted you to see me, to completely see me. Have you?” the man asked.

 

Will shivered. He should balk away in horror and disgust. He should reject this real life monster who put ghost inside his head. It was the right thing to do, to pull out his gun and arrest Hannibal right then and there. Instead, he merely nodded and enveloped the man with his arms and great big wings.

 

“It’s so beautiful.” He sobbed, and Hannibal heart broke along with him. Yet their love for each other remained, renewed by the complete understanding they had for one another.

 

Will pulled away, rubbing his tear stricken face on Hannibal’s firm arms. He could just imagine him slinging Freddie’s slim figure over his shoulder, carrying with the care that artist have for his tools of trade, heedless of the fact that she was a sentient being just mere hours before.

 

The picture made him shiver. His talons unsheathed from their place, ready to defend himself if the need would arise, but Hannibal’s eyes remained worshipful, unbothered by the threat of violence seeping from the man.

 

“Show me.” Will demanded, throwing his eyes away from the only man he ever truly loved. He gazed out the window, noting the large oak tree outside, barren of any leaves and seemingly dead to the world. He felt just like that tree. “Show me everything.”

 

“Of course.” Hannibal answered, ready to acquiesce his beloved and eager to bare him soul, no matter the consequences,

 

 

***

 

Will stood over Hannibal’s drawing board and leafed through pages upon pages of sketches of his past tableaus. Most of it he recognized, the Ripper’s masterpieces planned in paper and graphite, though what made him stilled was the older sketches. Rough passionate drawings of renaissance masterpieces remade with meat as canvas.

 

“This was when I just begun, in Florence, Italy.” Hannibal explained, placing his hand over a picture of a nymph scurrying away from zephyr. Will said nothing and nodded, and slowly the horror and disgust he was obliged to feel made way for a real appreciation in the skill and craftsmanship in each of his artwork.

 

He stopped in front of a picture of a girl mounted on a dead stag’s head. Cassie Boyle, the first iteration of the Copycat Killer. Hannibal slid his hand down from Will’s arching wings, settling the aggravated members and smoothing down it’s raised feathers.

 

“This was my first gift to you.” Hannibal quietly revealed. Will couldn’t help but leaned back to Hannibal’s touch, finding comfort even as he revealed the parts of him that others would revile him for.

 

“I remembered.” Will sighed, smudging the edges of the sketched out crow flying overhead the dead girl. “We were circling endlessly around Hobb’s profile. Jack was running me ragged.”

 

Hannibal hummed, unhappy at this revelation. “You give that man too much power over you my love.” The doctor said, chastising will in the gentle way only he could, but despite his soft chiding Will still snapped up and glared.

 

“Who else should I give power to? You?”

 

An amused little smile spread across Hannibal’s lips. “Oh my dear Will, don’t you know?” He brushed his curly hair behind his ears. “You’re the one who holds power over me.”

 

Will meditated on this fact as he was gently kissed and held in the killer’s arms. “Is that why you killed Freddie Lounds? Because of me? No.” The man gasped when Hannibal gazed his lips alongside the shell of his sensitive ear. “You killed her for me, didn’t you?”

 

The mention of the pesky reporter grated at Hannibal’s ears, but he remained calm and loving, unable to be anything else towards this beautiful boy of his. His silence was answer enough for the shaken man.

 

Will pushed Hannibal away, but there was no anger nor hatred in his eyes. Instead, the man looked calm and sure. Only one thing remained.

 

“Show me what you do with your surgical trophies.”

 

 

***

 

Forgiveness was a strange thing. It didn’t come to Will easily mostly because he had no people around to forgive them for. Before, he only exercise his forgiveness over his many strays. An aggressive growl here, a little potty accident there, but after a severe reprimand and training Will find himself an epitome of Guanyin looking over the human world.

 

Yet as Hannibal led him down from his office Will found that his resentment for the man has lessened with every steps. Of course Hannibal had to lie to him. Jack’s mission statement was to catch the Chesapeake Ripper and Will was his hunting hound. There was no other choice to secure his freedom other than to lie until Will was ready to listen.

 

The murder itself was startlingly easy to brush aside. These was strangers who had no bearings on his life, and though his sense of justice was intact, Will found that he was more concerned of their many affront to his beloved.

 

They walked together in understanding, eager to uncover the layers that remained so they can see each other with eyes unclouded by lies. Halfway through the silent walk, Will reached over and grasp Hannibal’s hand, surprised at how cold and clammy it was.

 

The man was nervous. The indomitable, immovable Hannibal Lecter was worried, scared that Will might flee from the true nature of his being. His wings hummed in sympathy, strong limbs pulling Hannibal back so they may cradle the man and soothe him like he has soothed them many times before.

 

Hannibal audibly swallowed and lowed his gaze, his lashes quivering with the barest hint of turmoil. “Will… I…” He never found his words, so Will took his breath with his lips and gave him strength with his kiss.

 

“Its okay.” He hummed against Hannibal’s lips. “Just show me, okay baby?”

 

Hannibal’s eyes glazed, dark with unbidden desire and profound relief. He cradled the tips of his unsheathed talons and kissed them. “Yes my love. Of course.” The man answered and continued on his walk, hands clenched around Will like a child wary of losing his way.

 

A certain dread coiled tightly on the base of Will’s stomach, a sixth sense warning him of what’s to come. The man ignored it. Hannibal would never hurt him. The man would raze the entire word and sacrifice himself before he hurt him. Love did that to a man like Hannibal, and Will knew it.

 

They moved past his pristine kitchen where so many of their mornings starts and many more memories resided. The pantry was a luxurious place where expensive ingredients were kept. A whole wheel of Parmargio Reggiano, cured Pata Negra, as well as wines of various vintages. Dark paneling lined the whole space, and Hannibal pushed on one of the craftily hidden one, revealing a hidden trap door that lead down a narrow staircase.

 

“Watch yourselves little one.” Hannibal murmured to Will’s wings, lending his hand to Will despite knowing that Will was more than capable of getting down on his own. These little things only reassured Will of his love for the man. How could he not repay his devotion with the smallest nugget of understanding?

 

Despite knowing this Will still held his wings around himself like a bulwark against the darkness. “Are you ready?” Hannibal asked, his voice thick with emotion. His wings trilled for him, a timid reply for the usually boisterous pair, and when Hannibal flipped the switch, they tightened around Will, pinching his waist like a existential corset to hold back his horrors.

 

Harsh fluorescent light revealed a killing room disguised as butchering station. In the middle was a metal table, the same ones they used in the morgue with drains in the middle of the place. Hooks hangs above it, gleaming sharp like it was new despite its undoubtably frequent use.

 

Will stepped forward and raised his black talons to touch the curving metal. The bend was the same, and Will was struck at how easy he could just stab someone by the arms and hold them with his talons alone.

 

“Will.” Hannibal called, further back from his basement. “In here.” He said, opening a metal door. The temperature of the room dropped, and Will didn’t know if it was from the wave of cloud wafting from inside the room or his empathy spinning into overdrive.

 

Peeking from behind Hannibal’s board shoulder, Will squinted inside the place, imaging jars of organs suspended in liquid or displayed on plaques like deer heads on a hunting lodge. What he saw was far more horrific.

 

Inside was a meat locker, with lines upon lines of headless naked human bodies hanging from feet first to drain their bodies of the remaining blood. Some still had their skin, other stripped of them completely, rendering them indistinguishable than a side of beef left to hang for flavor. They were all bereft of their feet and hand, those advanced articulating limbs discarded in a bin with their nails pulled out from their beds.

 

Will wanted to run away, the sight too much for him to process. “No…” He hiccupped, fear rendering his tongue heavy and numb. “No… The Ripper only takes a few surgical trophies!” He screamed, his whole body was trembling with anguish and dread.

 

Hannibal was instantly on his side, pulling Will into his warm embrace. “Shh, shh… I know my love, I know. But you’re so ravenous that I have to use every part of the animals.” The man murmured, his voice calm and steady despite every ounce of fiber in his body pleading for his lover’s understanding.

 

Upon this new realization Will clutched onto the man’s arms, unhearing of the way Hannibal’s bones crack under his strength. “Me?” He asked with a trembling voice. It was then that he realized the rows of meat behind the hanging bodies. Familiar steak cuts, crossed cut shins that Hannibal pass off as animal shanks, even the rack of ribs trimmed and frenched, one of Will’s most favorite meal to devour alone in it’s entirety.

 

Hannibal has been feeding him human meat.

 

Unable to stopped the disgust welling inside. Will lurched to the side and vomited up his lunch of a leftover meat sandwich that had more meat than bread of vegetables. It splattered onto the ground and onto Hannibal’s shoes. The marinated rare meat still red even hours later.

 

Will could still feel it’s remnants sitting on his stomach, and he shoved his fingers deep inside his throat, forcing himself to gag out the rest. Hannibal rushed to his side, pulling his hand down with a surprising strength that Will never knew he had.

 

“Stop it Will.” Hannibal ordered, but his command felt flat and weak in his ears, for it was stained with his distress for his boy. “I had to do it, do you understand? I must. Your body rejects any other type of sustenance.”

 

Will wailed, falling to his knees and into his own sick. Hannibal choked back a sob, trying to control the impossible emotions welling inside of him. Why won’t he understand? Hannibal tried so hard to explain himself, to tell him that he has changed from a monster who worships nothing but himself to a devotee dedicated to his health and happiness.

 

Hannibal want to scream alongside of him, to wrench his head back and slit his throat for the sheer ungratefulness he was showing him. A cleaver lay just within an arm’s reach, tempting him to take arms and satisfy his murderous lust, but even the thought made Hannibal nauseous.

 

How could he even entertain such idea? Even if Will grow to despise him, Hannibal could never exist without him. He sooner die that hurt this creature he has grown to love. It was mortifying, to be shackled by something more permanent than the inevitable mortal coil, but pride means nothing to Hannibal. Not when Will was in the equation.

 

He fell alongside his sobbing lover, unheeding of the rank pile of vomit seeping into his clothes. “My love…” he gently called, only wishing to comfort the distraught man.

 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Will screamed, and his voice shook every hanging implement in his basement, eyes darkening to reveal his true nature that turned his tears as black as tar. Hannibal fell back and obeyed, head hanging low, disgusted by himself for his inability to soothe the hurt that he caused.

 

With his great wing wings Will pushed himself up onto his feet, looking down to the man he love with a blank face, his body shutting down and taking over as his mind gave up on him.

 

“We don’t want to see you ever again.” He said, but the voice that spoke was not Will’s.

 

Hannibal head whipped up, grief stricken by his god’s ruthless punishment. “I did it for you all.” He pleaded, reaching over to angelic wings only to be denied as they moved out of his reach. His hand fell onto the floor alongside with his gaze, unworthy to touch or even witness Will’s majestic form. His fist was clenched so tight that his tendons feels they might even snap.

 

Towering high over the devastation he just caused, Will turned away from Hannibal and made his way up the narrow stairs. For a while Hannibal was frozen in place, until his thought began to shout at him, screaming in panic that this might eb the last time he would ever see his beloved.  

 

Unable to live with such terrible fate, Hannibal bounded up the stairs and threw his front door open. Outside Will stood tall the snow, his wings indistinguishable from the flurry that fell around him.

 

They unfolded to their full length, dwarfing the man by their size and weight. Even as they were turned away from him they looked majestic. There was not one iota of molecule that made up Hannibal’s body that did not ache to worship him. Those were the wings that he protected, that he nurtured and healed when they were as dead as the oak tree in his garden. He helped birthed them into the world, washing away the blood and fat that colored their feathers pink.

 

“Will!” Hannibal screamed as his voice was battered aside by the harsh winter wind. “Please, my love.” Begged the man like a criminal under a guillotine.

 

The creature merely turned his head for a fraction before leaping up into the air and disappeared from his sight. With him went Hannibal’s heart, for his chest felt like it was gored and empty.

 

Death was a much preferable fate than to continue existing like this.

 

***

 

Will ran back home. Or at least, he thought he ran back home. His body ached like he just ran a marathon, but he didn’t feel the biting cold seeping into his bones until the door of his house slammed shut. Alone in his house, Will wailed his lungs out over the truth of his aberrant condition.

 

Every furniture in his house shook, and this time Will realized it and swallowed his rage. A helpless chuckle escaped his cold shivering lips. Of course something as monstrous as he was also had a monstrous power.

 

He imagined himself in the wild, bathed in blood and shaking the trees as he howled his victory. Those sort environment was more suitable for a creature such as him, but Will couldn’t let himself out into the wild. It would only be time before his true nature took over and he hunted something down that was not animal.

 

No. He couldn’t not unleash himself to the populace like that. He booted up his laptop, sending emails to HR about being snowed in and requesting the mounting vacation days they’ve been hounding him to take. A month. That should be enough for him to…

 

To what? There was no end game to this. His whole existence rely on the consumption of human meat, and all this time he’s been relying on the most dangerous man for sustenance.

 

At least Hannibal can choose to stop killing. Other than his own amusement, there was no primal drive that forced him to kill other people. If one day his conscience grew heavy, Hannibal can repent and stop cannibalizing the rude. Will on the other hand had no other choice but to sustain himself on human meat.

 

In a very real way, he was worse than Hannibal.

 

‘ _Not anymore.’_  He decided, steeling his resolve for the hardest challenge he will ever take.

 

He grabbed his metal trashcan from outside and threw away the food Hannibal had stocked his fridge with. A line of dried morels drying on a butcher’s string joined their brethren, but the memory of their wonderful walk remained. There was no other way to throw away that memory other than to crack open his skull and excise his grey matter.

 

The stack of opera program served as kindling to start the fire, and the wonderful coffee table and ornate fireplace mantle was quickly dismantled and fed to the blazing flames. Books followed next, and the smell of treated leather burned his nose and made him feel dizzy, so Will retreated back to his lonely home, leaving himself in the dark. The light from the bonfire outside was enough for an animal like him.

 

Satisfied with his work. Will fell back inside and locked the door behind him. His body had warmed up and dampened from the sweat he worked up. He dropped the heavy axe he used to chop up the coffee table and mantle to the ground.

 

He shed all of his clothes and cranked up the heat, his wings swaddling up his body to retain what little body heat he had. Will crawled into his neatly made bed, noting that it has grown foreign since his time with Hannibal.

 

He preferred to spend his night in the man’s bed, limbs tangled as they teased and made love to each other under the sheet. The idea made Will sick, not because of Hannibal, but because someone as foul as he was doesn’t deserve the warmth and companionship that a lover might provide.

 

Alone and cold, Will thought of the many lives he had consumed to sustain his existence, all those strings of fates cut short just so his may remained intact. It was unforgivable. He knows about nature and the circle of life, that beast tore into other beast so they may survive, but Will was human.

 

He knew of the value of a simple human moment. A human life has impact beyond even their immediate ecosystems. Their words can touch hearts, change lives, even extend each other even in their darkest moment. Will had no right to prey on other people like that. His whole life has been dedicated to protecting other people, so what good is a sheepdog that maims it’s flock and feast on their flesh?

 

“Nothing.” Will said. “My life’s purpose is a goddamn lie.”

 

He laughed, a cracked broken thing that rang empty and smelled of despair. Will thought that Hannibal being the Ripper was the worst revelation in his life. He could love a killer. He could immerse his empathy in his motivations and drive and learn to love or even change them. With Hannibal, Will was ready to do just that, for he wasn’t ready to let go of Hannibal. He love him, even with his faults.

 

However, forgiveness was not one he would kindly extend to himself. In him lies a moral imperative that trumps even his own drive for survival and love. Creatures such as him simply cannot be allowed to live. His impact was too great, not only to the innocent people on his plate, but also to his already skewed scales of justice.

 

Will wept. He missed his dogs, but most of all, he missed the warmth of Hannibal’s kiss.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	18. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the horrific realisation of Hannibal’s true nature, Will sequestered himself in his Wolf Trap home to protect himself and others around him.

Growing up in the god fearing south, Will always knew that the wages of sin was death, but he never really understood the intricacies of the sacrament of penance and reconciliation.

 

If lying required him to say three rounds of Hail Mary’s and murder required a confession for absolution, then what would the equivalent for involuntary cannibalism be?

 

Surely it should rank lower than murder. Afterall, Hannibal did most of the dirty work. Will merely from in his sin, partaking in the fruits of the devil without being the one who pluck it form the tree.

 

Yet the guilt felt like his all the same.

 

_‘Twenty people missing in a month. That’s almost a body a day.’_ He thought, but rather be consumed by the tragedy of those lost lives, his stomach twisted at the memory of Hannibal’s succulent osso bucco, yearning for it’s succulent, moreish mouthfeel.

 

What a wonderful dinner it was. Surely it wasn’t the first time Hannibal had ever fed him human meat, but the intimate dinner felt like a covert baptism to him. If a baby christened in the Lord’s name would be spared from hellfire, then would Will be guaranteed a seat in Hannibal’s kingdom like Persephone in Hade’s table?

 

For he sure was the devil, a swirling force of nature that trailed death in his wake like smoke trailing a blazing fire. He consumes, reduced everything down to ash, yet his presence warmed Will all the same.

 

The man could go on and on. He had enough time and imagination to bring him to fantastical landscapes that veiled the heinous acts of Hannibal’s misdeeds with florid imagery, but Will refrained from such indulgences. For the collage of missing persons in the FBI headquarter was more vivid than any metaphors he could dream up, and unlike the visions in his head, those people were real.

 

His victims were people of different creed and background. The only thing they had in common was their good health, for not even the devil would dare serve up inferior beasts on his dinner table. Hannibal only ever served him quality meat, and Will could never found fault in his offerings.

 

It’s hard to reconcile the two ideas, one of executioner and steadfast caregiver. How could an act so monstrous brings him so much good? When Will glutted himself on Hannibal’s cooking, and it nourished every part of him. His wings flourished, his mind quietened, and his body strengthened.  The man turned him from an overworked antisocial to a beloved partner who found purpose in living life to it’s fullest potential

 

Hannibal has touched every facet of Will’s life. The building blocks of his body and their electrical impulses was fueled by the doctor’s tireless work. Where the ripper used to waste flesh to turn into ostentatious horrors, now he murders for him. Through death Hannibal gives him life, and Will was acutely aware of this fact as he took every one of his ragged breath.

 

The thought discomfited him. His wings loomed high, quiet and obedient as he mused about the man he love. With the doctor, they fussed and fiddled like impatient children, a separate entity other than himself whose thoughts and actions were unbridled by social niceties. Alone, they became a part of him, silent and deadly. Weapons for a beast that consumed human flesh for survival.

 

Only Hannibal could see them, only he dared to come near and pet these beast and call them his own. Will still remembered the litany of praises and adoration he whispered in the museum, how he likened him to gods and heroes of old, raising them above them all just to make him smile.

 

He supposed that only other beasts can see the merits in others like him, but Will refused to see the beauty in something as ugly as murder.

 

And so he remained inside, sequestering himself in his home as the snow piled outside. The fire place was stacked high and the heater put on blast, but as hung seeped on his strength, Will remained cold as ever.

 

***

 

Hannibal sat in front of his fireplace, his whole neighborhood blanketed  by a thick cover of snow, muffling any sound of nature or traffic. Dinner was slowly braising on the stove, filling the house with a delicious smell of nutmeg and ginger. The scent of Christmas, a time for family and festivities enjoyed alone in a pantomime of luxury and comfort.

 

The holidays has always managed to make Hannibal especially lonesome, a malady he remedied by hosting numerous dinner parties and soirees. He was looking forward to hosting this year’s party with Will, to show off his new partner and introduce him to high society.

 

Though Will may shy from frivolous socialization and banal conversations, there was a prideful part of Hannibal that want the unworthy to witness the majesty of that beautiful creature. ‘ _Look’_ he wanted to say to the swine. _‘Look and see Beauty made flesh. He has chosen me as his home and he belongs to me.”_

 

How foolish was he to think in such terms. He never reduced him to such narrow constraints, but Will was more than a pretty trinket to show off in some party. In his eagerness to induct him into his life, Hannibal has overlooked the most important thing about the man he loved.

 

He spent his whole life as a living bulwark against monsters. Realizing that he was one and the same disillusioned him to his own self.

 

As a man of above average intelligence, never once did Hannibal underestimate the depth of Will’s complexity. Why, the man worshiped him to a point of ceremonial exhaustion. However, in his eagerness to discard his masks Hannibal has broken the tender bond between them, ceasing the growth of the love he thought to be immutable.

 

Shame remained, clinging to his shadows even as he resumed his daily routines. He resigned himself to imprisonment, thinking that Will’s ingrown sense of justice would drive him to report Hannibal to the authority, but the sirens never came. His life remained untouched, and though his many luxuries and reputation remained intact, his heart was irrevocably broken.

 

He moved through his day on autopilot, numbed throughout the day with secret sips of wine that quickly changed to bourbon. He still cooks everyday, driving through the winter blizzard through chartered snowplows that cleared the road that stretched between his home and Will’s little house. Everyday he leave his offering, human meat cooked and sealed in ceramic Tupperware, and everyday he returns to find them still in their place. Untouched.

 

Such overt show of rejection would’ve brought Hannibal to anger had the anguish not destroyed him first.

 

Dazed with despair, the doctor picked himself back up and continued on his day like the living dead. He repeated this daily, laying devastation to his ego and heart in hopes that Will might touch his food. A foolish side of him hoped that Will might’ve fled, finding reprieve from his daily visits in some warm, flesh congested city where flesh might whet his appetite.

 

Hannibal could live with the distance if it meant the man would eat. He could make peace with the hatred if he knew that Will could thrive without him. However, much to his relief and continued vexation, Will remained in his home. His great white wings were the only visible thing from the window outside, brilliant white turning ashy and grey each day that passes.

 

After a week Hannibal found himself knocking on the front door. He readied himself for silence, but the sound of slicky clammy feet approaching over hardwood floor entered his ears.

 

Hannibal stood up straighter and smoothed out his jacket and hair, instinctively preening to look his best for his lover, but as soon as the door opened, his honey words fell flat and silent for a truly sorry sight greeted him and wrenched his heart.

 

The scent of stale despondency hung in the air like a fungus infestation. Will look gaunt, his cheeks stood sharp against his face, thin and brittle. Even under his clothes Hannibal could see the jutting angles of his joints. The man looked hungry, but his eyes reminded the doctor of pictures prisoners in internment camps.

 

He looked like he had already given up.

 

How could this be? It’s only been a week. Hannibal wanted to grab the man and shook him, demanding answer while feeling the absence of meat and fat on his bones. It was unacceptable. His hard work, daily dedication and quiet worship was laid to waste as this skeleton of a man greeted him in his front door.

 

“What do you want.” Will snapped, but there was no force behind his voice. _‘That’s because you’re too hungry, my dear. Please eat so you may punish me better.’_ Hannibal wanted to say, but all he could do was stand there, a pained expression on his face as his answer.

 

Desperate maroon eyes looked behind the man, but Will hid his wings, folding them small and low behind his back. He looked so achingly mortal. “My love…” Hannibal croaked, reaching forward to touch him, to smooth the goosebumps on his skin and tell him that he’s still the same man who love him all these months ago.

 

Will stepped away, a jerky movement more suited for a prey animal than the apex predator that he is. Hannibal let his hand hang on the air, dumbfounded by his reaction. “My love…” He tried again, pleading with every once of love and desperation, for Hannibal needed his touch just as much as Will needed him.

 

When the man did nothing to come closer Hannibal closed his eyes and withdrew, making sure to stay beyond the threshold of Will’s house. He dare not violate his sanctuary. “I made you some roast-“

 

“I don’t want it.” Will growled, though his eyes zeroed in on the container in Hannibal’s hand.

 

A part of himself wanted to pop the lid open to tempt Will with the scent of food, but Hannibal knew that the trust between them are as thin as ice. He only nodded stiffly, placing the container on the wicker table on the porch. “I will leave it outside in case you change your mind.”

 

“I won’t.” Came the petulant answer, and for a moment Hannibal wanted nothing more than to tackle his boy to the ground and force him to take the nutrients he needed.

 

“Will, you must eat.” Hannibal patiently explained. “You’re already growing so thin. Tell me my boy, when did the last time you ate?”

 

Will didn’t answer, though Hannibal couldn’t tell if his silence was caused by his contempt or shame. he stiffened. Hannibal never meant to inspire such ugly feelings in his lover’s beautiful mind.

 

“I’m sorry my love, but you have to eat. I won’t bother you with my presence as long as you eat.”

 

The corner of Will’s lips was raised in a snarl, eyes wavering between something inhuman and mortal. Hannibal stilled, completely aware of the danger looming just beyond Will’s control. Just as he thought he has unleashed the beast, Will pulled back, rubbing his tingling eyes. His hands came away wet, black tears training his fingers.

 

Hannibal stared at his boy, completely at a loss. Will merely turned away, as if the sight of him was too much for him to beheld. Understanding that he truly was not wanted there, Hannibal gave a curt nod and took a step back.

 

“May I visit on Christmas?” he asked tentatively. Even now he still held hope, believing that a chance still remained for him and his boy.

 

“You may not.” Will answered, but even with his face in the shadows Hannibal could hear the same pain he tried so hard to ignore. “… but you will come anyways, right?”

 

The doctor smiled, tired and hopelessly in love. “You know me so well.”

 

“I don’t know you at all Hannibal.” He growled, stepping back into the light. “and evidently, you never really know me if you think I would cave in after a few days of hungers and your pretty words.”

 

Those accusation made the doctor flinch, surprised at how easily Will could stoke up the shameful burn inside of him. “Oh Will,” Hannibal sighed as he raised his hand to cup his trembling jaw, unable to deny himself any longer. “I’m the only one who can ever understand you.”

 

Before Will could pull away and hurt them both again, Hannibal whispered his goodbye and trudged through the snow into the warmth of his car.

 

Will didn’t look back. His wings inched out, slamming the door close, and he collapsed from the sheer exertion of holding them back. The sound of Hannibal Bentley awakened them, two arching wings raising up in a shrill as they slammed against the door, desperate to return to Hannibal.

 

“Be quiet.” Will hissed. “Please… just-“ he sobbed, curling into a ball as his wings rampages, talons scratching the door and glass in a painful screech. It muffled the sound of Hannibal’s Bentley driving off, and with the graying feathers falling all around him, Will felt like he was in another dimension.

 

Eventually they settled down, falling limp onto the floor and taking what little energy Will had left. Unable to even stand, he crawled into the messy nest of his bed and wrapped himself in his blankets, hoping that a dreamless sleep might come to spare him from the emptiness in his stomach and heart.

 

It never did.

 

 

 

***

 

 

Christmas came and went, and though Hannibal made good on his promise not to visit Will, he still spent a pretty penny on a courier to send him his meals. Hannibal wanted nothing more than to do it himself, but the man was unable to trust himself not to infringed further on Will’s space.

 

He knew that he has violated Will’s trust that it will take time to repair that, but time was just not a luxury that they both have. Each day Will refused to eat his body would deteriorate.

 

Hannibal remembered how withered and frail his wings looked after his time away in Hawaii. The thought of seeing them like that again kept him awake. He lost count of the many late night drives he took only to turn his car back around, quietly chiding his lack of self control.

 

When it comes to Will, Hannibal felt completely helpless. In his quiet moments he found himself buffeted by the storm of emotions inside of himself, bouncing from anger to depression to numb apathy. He found no reprieve without the man, restless to the point of distraction. Nothing brought him pleasure. Music, food, or even the pleasant company of Alana paled to the carefree joys they both shared in the past.

 

Lonely and in desperate need of distraction, Hannibal invited her over after Christmas. He played the perfect host as always, joking and chatting with Alana while she sous chef their dinner. It’s easier to pretend to be alright when there’s an audience to perform for, but his façade fell when she began asking about Will.

 

“Is he out visiting his family? Seems strange not to spend the holidays with your boyfriend.”

 

Hannibal wrinkled his nose at the trite little tittle, a term far to simple and small to encompass the magnitude of their relationship. Before he could his his emotions, Alana caught sight fo it and frowned, wiping her hand on the towel and placing it on his arm.

 

“What is it Hannibal? You look upset.” She said, ever the compassionate friend.

 

“Do I really?” He chuckled, though his smile fell short just moments later. “Will and I are in a… disagreement.” The doctor quietly confessed, looking somewhat chagrin at himself for confiding something that others could perceive as weak.

 

“Wow, you are?” Alana laughed but fell quiet when she saw Hannibal’s grim countenance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you. It just so strange that someone as diplomatic as you could find yourself in this sort of situations.” She added quickly.

 

If she wasn’t so pleasant to look at Hannibal would’ve taken that slight more seriously. The doctor hummed and waved off her apology and continued on chopping the herbs on his cutting table, but as the minutes past he found himself lost in thought, replaying the moment in the basement again.

 

“Hannibal? You’re turning the dill into mush.” Alana gently called out, her voice tinged with worry.

 

“Oh.” Hannibal blinked, and sure enough the crisp green herb had turned into a dark brown smear against the bamboo board. “How silly of me.” He said, discarding the odious looking paste and began vigorously cleaning his board.

 

Alana took off her apron and went over to him, pushing herself to sit on the counter while she waited for him. It reminded Hannibal of the wonderfully innocent way Will sits and wait for him while he cooks.

 

“You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?” Alana asked quietly. The doctor said nothing, opting to scrub his cuttingboard in silence. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

Hannibal’s jaw’s tightened but this time he managed a quiet nod. “I… betrayed his trust.”

 

“How so?” she pushed, a habit built up from years of talking with hesitant patients.

 

“You remembered a period of time where Will wasn’t eating and falling ill all the time?” Hannibal asked. Alana nodded, completely aware of the old sickly Will Graham who barely touched his meal and met anyone’s eyes. The doctor continued. “Well I made him some soup with some ethically questionable ingredients. I lied when he asked about it in hopes that he might take a bite.”

 

“Let me guess, you put in an endangered animal in your soup, didn’t you?” Alana teased, still unaware of the gravity of Hannibal’s situation.

 

Glad for her presumptiveness, Hannibal gave her a wry smile and went along with her line of reasoning. “Shark fin soup. It’s medicinal, with ginseng and black garlic to stimulate the appetite, but I digress. Will’s a conservationist at heart. I should’ve know better than to serve him such a controversial dish.” He said, lying smoothly.

 

“You also know better than to lie.” Alana teased playfully.

 

“I just wanted him to eat. It breaks my heart to see him so thin.” Hannibal said, a picture of perfect contrition as he spun his half-truth and lies. “Needless to say he recently found out about it and confronted me. Will isn’t someone who trust others easily, and he was deeply hurt at my deception.”

 

“Even if it’s a little white lie?”

 

“It’s a lie nonetheless.” He sighed, wiping his head and staring out of his window. “I fear that this might spell the end for us.”

 

Alana sat up straighter, alarmed at the seriousness in Hannibal’s tone. “Over shark fin soup?” She asked, confused at the strange scenario. Something nagged on the back of her mind, but she had no reason to doubt Hannibal’s story. “That seems like an overreaction. Have you two talked yet?”

 

“I’ve tried to, believe me. Will wouldn’t take my call and he always sends me away every time I came to his home.”

 

Alana sighed. “I’m not surprised. Will is quite unstable. You take care of him well Hannibal, but some people are just not meant to be in relationships.”

 

“Will belongs with me.” Hannibal growled. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

 

Alana looked at him like one might look at an abandoned puppy. A part of her wanted to take him in to her arms, to take this chance and comfort him so that Hannibal might eb aware of her affections for him, but Alana knew that she had no chance.

 

In all of her life she has never seen him so distraught. It’s unsettling really. To Alana Hannibal was a rock, stoic and enduring even through the hardest adversity. It’s baffling that he would let himself get so worked up over Will Graham of all people.

 

She slid off the counter and lead the man over to the living room, settling him down onto the couch, frowning when he immediately crumbled, breaking his perfect posture and holding his face in his hand.

 

“Hannibal, we both have counseled people in bad relationships before. I think it’s time for you to recognize your own situation and do what is best for yourself.”

 

“You think Will and I are ill suited for one another?” Hannibal asked, trying his best to mask his irritation at her rude insinuation.

 

“… I think there are aspects in your relationship that’s unsustainable.” Alana added carefully, using her psychiatrist voice so to not antagonize her friend. “Communication and forgiveness should be the hallmark of any relationship. Will’s unwillingness to engage with you after your many overtures is troubling.”

 

“I hurt him Alana. Will is entitled to his feelings.” Hannibal said, feeling defensive over his lover and uncaring at how desperate it made him look.

 

“Yes, but he shouldn’t punish you to repay for your mistakes.” Alana said. Hannibal huffed and leaned back. As much as he hated hearing Alana criticize his partner, Hannibal recognize the logic of her counsel. She continued, “I can see just how much you’re suffering Hannibal. Someone with Will’s empathy should be able to see that too. By continuing to deny you attention and forgiveness, Will is punishing you unnecessarily.”

 

“I’m more than willing to bear it if it would earn me his forgiveness.”

 

“Listen to yourself.” Alana sighed, exasperated at the irrationality found in her usually level headed friend. “If a patient comes to you with this situation, you wouldn’t tell them to endure their partner’s irrational punishment, wouldn’t you?”

 

“I would tell them to do whatever makes them happy.” Hannibal countered deftly, knowing that it was a worthy outcome that even Alana couldn’t argue against.

 

“Would suffering for Will make you happy?” Alana asked with a worried voice. It was clear now that Hannibal was too far gone to consider any rational thought, but she still hoped that at least the man could stop and think of his answer carefully.

 

For a moment Hannibal closed his eyes, considering Alana’s question with a deep introspection saved for his quiet moments alone. Throughout his life he has sought out to minimize suffering and to enjoy life’s many pleasures. Hannibal has experienced enough tragedy to know just how precious life is, and living in this way was not something he enjoyed at all.

 

Still, he would take a lifetime of pain if it meant Will would accept him back. He couldn’t bear the thought of letting someone so brilliantly beautiful just fade away. Will must eat. He must survive. If it meant that Hannibal had to suffer for it, then he would accept that sacred duty like the blessing that it is.

 

“Yes. Yes it would.” The man answered, knowing full well what he has to do to return to his beloved’s side and stay there forever.

 

***

 

Despite Hannibal’s defeated admittance of his inability to stay away, Will was disappointed when his daily offering was delivered by an overpaid courier instead of his attentive lover. Though his reasoning made sense, the courier’s surly attitude was wholly unpleasant and abrasive. Sure, no one likes to trudge through a blizzard for nothing, but the man’s daily complaints was so tiresome that it made Will miss Hannibal even more.

 

It’s hypocritical of him to feel this way. Will as the one who sent Hannibal away, but the feelings of longing and disappointed still remained every time he opened his doors and faced the unpleasant driver.

 

Half delirious with hunger, Will considered complaining about the man’s attitude so that the doctor might resume his deliveries himself, but then he remembered about the ripper’s tendencies of killing rude people. What little humor he had left evaporated instantly. It was sobering to think about his sweet, loving Hannibal dispatching a human body like it was no better than an animal.

 

Days blended together in a blessed blur. To pass the time Will abandoned all intellectual pursuit and chose drank himself sick. Like a man stranded alone in an island, he accounted all of his three remaining bottles of alcohol, assigning each one to finish when the days stretched impossibly long and he couldn’t fall asleep.

 

He calls for oblivion and imbibed the spirit with gusto, welcoming it’s unpleasant burn for it preceded a pleasant numbness that will distract him from this transitory pain.

 

Will hoped that it would hasten him to his end. Afterall, his father had drowned himself in a bottle. It’s only natural for him to follow in his steps. “Look at me, saving the world by day drinking. Aren’t you proud of me old man?” Will chuckled sardonically, raising his glass to toast the dead father that he never really connected with.

 

However, his plans to pass out in a stupor was quickly halted when his first glass of whiskey sent him hurling straight into his toilet bowl.

 

As he laid his head on the cold porcelain seat, Will could do nothing but laugh at his own wretched predicament. It seems like Hannibal was right. His body rejects any calories that didn’t contain any human parts.

 

_‘What a fucking monster.’_ Will berated himself slowly standing up and slipping from lightheadedness. He caught himself, smashing his hand in the mirror. The silver faults spreads like a spiderweb, and in it’s shattered facets Will stared at his fractured reflection, trapped by his own nature.

 

He strikes a sorry figure in the reflection, his slight body shriveling into himself, skeletal and sickly to the point of monstrosity. There was no beauty here, only a man courting death.

 

It was an unpleasant sight, but Will took comfort in knowing that he was too weak to hurt anyone in his state.

 

He could feel his end fast approaching. Hunger didn’t even register in his mind anymore. His body had been cannibalizing itself in his voluntary starvation, and now there was nothing else to take. The constant headache and coldness no longer bothered him. The only thing that remained was a quiet acceptance of his fast approaching end.

 

Will’s only regret was that he’s going to face it alone. If he had his way, he would want to die in the strong arms of the man who worked so hard to keep him alive.

 

‘ _No, this is enough.’_ The man said to himself. As terrible of a human as Hannibal was Will still love him, and he wouldn’t want to hurt him more than he already does.

 

***

 

Silence permeated his quiet home. The rush of his blood has slowed to a glacial hum and his heartbeat fluttered in and out of rhythm. In the cold Will wrapped his wings around himself, but even with the help of his blankets and wings the chill in his body still refused to leave his bones.

 

The door clicked open, allowing the ray of the waning moon to enter, bringing with it the frigid wind of winter and a looming shadow of a familiar figure. From under his many layers of blankets Will stared, eyes blurry and dry. “Hann…” He called, and the man appeared, a vision so real Will couldn’t help but smile.

 

A choked breath and heavy hands caressed gently over his brows, their presence so warm it roused Will from his bundle. It was too dark to see him, but Will crawled over onto his lap, guided by the pulsing live bursting from the shadowy man before him. “Hannibal…” he croaked, plastering his body against Hannibal’s sturdy frame.

 

“I’m here.” Came the chocked reply, pulling Will closer like he weighed nothing. “Oh you silly boy.” The man chided, his voice trembling with pained accusation. “Why must I fall in love with a stubborn creature such as you?”

 

His wings came alive, embracing the man back with what little strength they had left. Talons clasps against each other, locking them together in a binding hold that was quickly broken. “I don’t know.” Will whisper, his voice paper thin and weak. He wished his lips weren’t so dry so that he could give Hannibal a kiss he would remember.

 

Careful hands felt around in the dark, feeling the translucent skin on his wings, devoid of the full plumage it once bore. They were voiceless, unable to make the beautiful music of Will’s hidden desires and fear. Wilted feathers that surrounded them disintegrated at his touch, leaving nothing to show for their existence.

 

“You’re killing yourself.” The doctor whispered, though he did not sound surprised at Will’s hum of confirmation.

 

“Will you stay?” Will tentatively asked, unable to deny himself this one last selfishness. “Until the end?”

 

“I will be with you forever my boy.” Hannibal readily agreed, though his voice was broken and afraid as he whispered his next words. “My beautiful Will…”

 

Amused at the doctor’s romantic overtures, Will reached behind him and pulled on the string of his bedside lamp. Electricity crackled, revealing Hannibal’s horrified visage as he beheld his lover’s deteriorating body.

 

“Not so beautiful anymore, am I?” Will chuckled, though it was quickly smothered by a round of dry painful cough. Hannibal rushed to pull him back into his arms, taking his gaunt face and pressing warm kisses over Will’s cracked lips.

 

“I bought you food.” He said with a clipped tone, reaching down to bring up a heavy thermos full of nourishing broth. It was the very same recipe he tried making for Will before they consummated their relationship.

 

Will wanted to jerk away and scream at the man, but he only managed to whisper a question. “Who was it?”

 

Hannibal froze angry that Will cared enough to ask about an unworthy swine and not care for himself “I didn’t ask.” He replied, stilted and short. “I never do. They are animals, Will. Nothing but meat wasting their lives-“

 

“I don’t want it.” Will hissed.

 

“Come now Will. Be reasonable Will...” The doctor whispered.

 

“Something like me shouldn’t even exist in the first place.” Will continued, disappointed to spend the last hours of his life arguing with the man he love. “I am merely restoring balance.”

 

Hannibal regarded his lover carefully, drinking in his emaciated body. As gently as he always were, Hannibal pulled will close to him and whispered into his ears.

 

“We all care about the balance of the ecosystem where our prey lives, but not to the detriment of our own lives.” He said, clinical and distant like a disappointed parent lecturing a petulant child. His gaze softened when he met Will’s fading blue eyes. “Please Will, my love… just a little sip.” He insisted, opening the cap and pouring the contents into it, a last

 

The slow pour of steaming broth became the center of their world.

 

Glistening in the warm light, the small cup shone like dense liquid pearl. Will could already taste the thick savory fat coating his mouth and warming his body. His empty stomach growled, mouth salivating at the rich scent filling the air. “Yes my dear, just a sip.” Hannibal hummed, his heart pounding hard with excitement as Will’s eyes bleed into black.

 

Just mere inches from the rounded rim of the cup, Will’s lips cracked into a snarl. “No!” He shouted, slapping the cup away from Hannibal’s hand and sent it shattering across the floor. A bit of broth plashed onto the edges of his shirt, and his whole body trembled, urging Will to suck what the little liquid seeping into the fibers.

 

Mustering up the last of his willpower, the man pulled his shirt over his head and threw it away as hard as he could. The fabric fluttered uselessly onto the floor next to them.

 

Angered and betrayed, Will turned his accusatory glare at Hannibal. Upon seeing his lover’s face, the abyss in his eyes quickly faded, taking with it his fury and hurt. “Look away.” Will swallowed, taking the sheet around him to shield himself from Hannibal’s eyes.

 

The man stopped him and reached out to touch the violent angular bones sticking out of Will’s cadaverous body. There was no words, no thoughts, just a deep profound grief that spilled out down his pale handsome face.

 

The same fingers that killed and brought life touched the lines of Will’s ribcage, dancing over them like a ghost of a chord over ivory piano keys. Hannibal sobbed openly, incapable of holding back his sorrow.

 

Death clung to his beloved and Will has chosen to be by it’s side over living with him. He was willing to endure this slow, ugly departure than to fight for his own life for an extra moment with him. It didn’t matter than Will rejected his food and all the memory and thoughts behind it. His mind was made up, and there was nothing Hannibal could do nothing to change his mind.

 

Stunned into silence, Will could only stare as his calm and stoic lover broke down like a small child. In these past few weeks he has built up Hannibal to be a monster, a liar that butchers others and amused himself with Will’s gullibility. It was the only way he could stop himself from running back into his arms.

 

What a fool he was to doubt the depth of Hannibal’s love.

 

“Stop crying. You can’t do this Hannibal.“ Will pleaded, his voice soft and determined at the same time. “I want this, so please don’t make it harder than it already is.”

 

“You truly wish to die? To leave me after I’ve fallen madly in love with you?” Hannibal bawled. “What a cruel god you are. You should’ve just killed me and spare this pain.”

 

“You don’t understand.” Will shook his head. “I want nothing more than to live with you, but I don’t want a life paved on the bones of others.”

 

“You can pretend.” Hannibal whispered, grasping Will’s painfully thin arms in a desperate grasp. “I’ll tell you it’s just beef and pork and you can choose to believe me. I won’t show you my work or my kitchen. I’ll take criminals, rapist, anyone of your choosing.”

 

Will smiled, touched by Hannibal’s enduring affection. He sighed and laid back pulling the man to lay against chest. He had no more energy to argue. He just wanted to sleep and feel Hannibal’s comforting weight on his body.

 

“Please Will.” Hannibal pleaded against his skin, his face a mess of tears and despair.

 

Will carded his finger through Hannibal’s silky hair, exhausted but still sparing enough energy to comfort his beloved. “Silly man. You told me you could never deny me anything. Don’t deny me my choice Hannibal. Let me die.” He said, hushing the man with his last conscious thought.

 

Drained, Will slept with a smile on his face. How lucky was he to die in the arms of a man who loved him enough to kill for him. He had no regrets, happy that his death would allow others to live. There was purposed to his life and meaning in it’s end. He was complete.

 

Hannibal could do nothing but clutched him close, listening to the silence between his pulse grow longer with each passing moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Would suffering for Will make you happy?”_

 

_“Yes. Yes it would.”_

 

_‘Would dying for him make you happy?’_

“Of course.” Hannibal said. It would be the easiest choice he could ever make.

 

With teeth that tore through the flesh of countless men, Hannibal bit down on his wrist and tore through his tendons and muscles. The agony was unimaginable, but he welcomed it like an apostle welcomed a baptism of fire.

 

He chewed on his own flesh, gnawing it until he could pass them between his teeth. Parting Will’s cracked lips with trembling fingers, Hannibal licked into his mouth and passed his flesh, bringing his heavily bleeding wrist to his lips and massaging the man’s throat.

 

Will’s eyes snapped open, completely black and inhuman. He swallowed ravenously and bit into Hannibal’s lips. “Yes, love. That’s it.” He murmured, pulling away so that the creature might drink his blood more easily. He latched onto it hungrily, each hungry gulp filling him with vigor.

 

Relief overcame Hannibal as his adrenaline spiked, masking the pain to the point of euphoric fervor. He pulled out the small pocketknife he prepared and tore through his clothes, making a small incision on his bulging biceps.

 

“Here too my dear. There’s more meat for you.” He said through gritted teeth. Will growled and pushed him flat onto the bed, mounting him as he feasted on Hannibal’s body. The experience was intense, his stomach felt like it was suspended in air, jolted through a metaphysical ride that transcended the sharing of body and blood.

 

Will moaned out loud and rubbed himself against Hannibal’s body, but there was nothing sexual to his motion. His wings slowly rose up, oscillating with minute vibrations that shook Hannibal to his core.

 

Then before his eyes feathers began to grow, bursting through the pale skin that grows pinker by the minute. Will groaned and shook them impatiently, raining old molted skin over them as his feathers were brought back into the world. Hannibal barely registered the pain in his half-eaten arm, for he was enraptured by the divine ritual of Will’s resurrection.

 

Eventually the desperate gnawing slowed down to quiet little nibbles, but Hannibal held Will’s head firmly against his mangled flesh, urging him to take more. He wanted so desperately to be devoured by this man, to live in his bones and be one with him forever. Life without Will was meaningless, but to transcend this mortal plane and live within him? There was no better fate short of shared immortality.  

 

Just as the adrenaline began to fade and Hannibal begun to feel faint, Will pulled back, regaining control over himself as he looked down with a horrified expression on his blood stained face.

 

Hannibal looked up, weak and in agony, but there was a satisfied little smile playing on his lips.

 

“You were betting for me to kill you.” Will whispered, now cognizant and feeling cheated all over again. Full of life and renewed energy, he began to realize behind Hannibal’s uncharacteristic resignation. “You spiteful cunt!” He shouted, rushing to tear the sheets to make into a tourniquet.

 

Hannibal shook his head. “Not spiteful. Hopeful.” He curled his uninjured hand to cup against Will’s messy face. “I want you to see that it’s not so terrible to kill and eat human. If you could do that to someone you love, you can do it to other people too. Someone more deserving. Someone of your own choosing.”

 

Will jerked away and screamed into the darkness of his home. Hannibal laughed, half delirious from the blood loss, but there was no derision in his eyes. There was only love, overwhelming and endless. Will felt so unworthy of such affection.

 

He wiped his face clean and began working on the tourniquet, ignoring Hannibal’s whispered urging to sup more from his flesh. He searched through the man’s clothes to find his phone, quickly dialing 911 for an ambulance to come. Hannibal sighed in acceptance and pulled his boy back to bed, nuzzling his beautiful wings and pressing quiet worship between their thick plumage.

 

“You should cancel the ambulance and just finish eating me.” Hannibal drawled. “It would be much easier to explain to the paramedics.” Even in the face of death the doctor still

 

“Shut up. I’m not talking to you.” Will growled, though the was no anger in his voice, only worry and his ever-present guilt.

 

“As you wish, my love.” Hannibal agreed, pulling Will down to lay on his body. “May I still kiss you Will?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for his answer before capturing his plump lips between his own.

 

“Manipulative bastard.” Will mumbled, though he kissed the man back anyways, pressing his hand onto his neck to count the slow pulse of his heartbeat. It was low, and Hannibal was growing paler by the second. “Fuck!” Will cursed, eyes stringing with tears. “You killed for me. You risk dying for me. Why? Fucking why!” he screamed.

 

The doctor laughed and shook his head, falling even more in love with this beguiling creature. “Because I want your forever Will, but I know that I won’t get it. That’s okay. Let me give you the rest of my forever.” He whispered, quietly pulling the tourniquet off while raining kisses on Will’s face. When he pulled away his face solemn with pain and contemplation.

 

“You have to survive. The world will be much less beautiful without you in it. So finish me, love. Let me find purpose in death.”

 

Crazed with fury and love, Will slammed his mouth against his in a violent kiss. “Fuck you. If I can’t get my way then neither can you, asshole.” He growled, raising his great big wings and lifting Hannibal easily in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	19. Reconciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will desperately tries to save Hannibal and found that the hospital to be inadequate.

People who survived near death experiences often return with illuminating knowledge about themselves. The useless trappings of life falls to the wayside and things that are truly important comes into focus. Some see family, others their pets, some remembered missed opportunities and laments on their wasted potential before their unfortunate tragedy.

 

On death’s door Hannibal was at peace. In one lifetime the man has accomplished what only few dared to dream. Regret was not a concept he believed it, for such weak sentimentality were reserved for those who lacked the strength and courage to carry out their desires.

 

People like him tends to be the ones that pass on peacefully, but in the bright hospital light Hannibal could find none, for by his side his beloved remained, shouting like a poet might recite the most passionate soliloquy.

 

“My dear…” Hannibal smiled, torn between wanting to scold him for his filthy language and to kiss his hand and tell him how much he love him.

 

“Shut the fuck up you manipulative piece of shit- I’m trying to save your goddamn life!”

 

“Sir, please step away from the gurney. Let the doctor through.”

 

“Alright. Alright. Okay. YOU STAY ALIVE HANNIBAL! YOU HEAR ME?! YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE.”

 

“That’s my partner.” Hannibal smiled, mumbling to a bemused looking nurse fiddling with an IV. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

 

And truly, between the silhouette of the doctors and amongst the whirring machines and forgettable humans, Will’s fading figure was the most beautiful sight Hannibal has ever seen

 

 

***

 

Oblivion feels like floating in space, numb and warm, but reality quickly sinks in as the scent of his own fever assaulted his senses and woke Hannibal from his sleep.

 

Faded murmurings of blurred figures came to his sight, and between them he recognized the blessed sound of his beloved’s voice. He blinked and darkness overtake him once more. The next time he woke up, Will was by his side, curled into a small ball in the crook of his hospital bed with his wings blanketing them both.

 

“W…ill…” Hannibal called, immediately displeased by his weak voice. His partner immediately roused, his face stained black with abyssal tears that quickly faded as his eyes turned luminous and blue.

 

Hannibal sighed in relived, happy to feel the healthy weight of his lover’s body against him. Though his head pounded and his back felt like it was going to burst into flames, Hannibal still took the time to run his hand over Will’s chest, humming in approval when he couldn’t feel any protruding ribs.

 

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Will said roughly. Though no matter how cross he might’ve looked, his eyes was still so full of affection.

 

 “I love you.” Hannibal readily whispered, laughing in pain as his beloved cursed softly in reply.

 

“You’re an asshole, you know that Hannibal?” Will asked, covering them both with his wings. Hannibal wished he had the capacity to entertain his lover beyond a few mumbled words and tired hums, and that dissatisfaction quickly grew to an unquenchable unease. It was strange being so weak.

 

“How do you feel?” Hannibal looked up at the gentle question and looked down onto his hand. There were bandages all over his arms, but Hannibal still feel the absence of his flesh like one might see the negative spaces between works of art.

 

“Like I’m mortal.” The man slurred, raising his arm and wincing when he found that he couldn’t lit it above his shoulder. “I don’t like it.”

 

Will chuckled, failing to keep up the firm face as Hannibal won him over with even in his weakened, drugged up state. “That’s what you get for offering yourself up for dinner.” The man teased, but his face quickly turned somber when he remembered the copious amount of blood that bathed them both. “I almost killed you, you know? What the hell were you thinking?”

 

“You’re here aren’t you my love?” Hannibal smiled, raising his uninjured hand to stroke Will’s cheeks, knowing that the man couldn’t resist him just like Hannibal could never resist Will himself.

 

They settled into a companionable silence, each of them caressing each other in quiet relief. Will look torn, but when his eyes fell on Hannibal a smile would grace his lips. Hannibal returned him, gifting him with silent kisses that speak louder than any word he would ever utter.

 

Time passed and doctors came and went, all of them telling Hannibal that he was lucky to survive such vicious animal attack. Will looked guilty in these encounters, but Hannibal never let him go far. He held the man close and nuzzled him like a cat scenting it’s mate, saying ‘ _It’s okay my dear. I love.’_  Without saying a single word.

 

Then in the quiet of the night Hannibal suddenly jerked up, his eyes dazed and faraway. Hannibal felt that something was amiss, and he was overcome by a desperate need to go home. His jerky movement jostled his lover to attention, but Hannibal didn’t even stop to mind Will. He just started unhooking himself from the various tubes and needles attached to his body with a frantic energy.

 

“Wait, Hannibal wait!” Will rushed over to his side and grabbed his hand. “Don’t do that baby, you still to rest.”

 

Shaking his head vehemently, Hannibal his hand free and began pulling on his tubes. “Something is wrong.” He said, eyes turning hazy and delirious. “I need to go home. I need to-“

 

“Hey, hey…” Will was at a loss for words. He’s never seen Hannibal like this. Even in the face of death the man had remained dauntless, but this? The sight of Hannibal so lost shook Will straight to his core.

 

“Would you be more comfortable if I checked you out of the hospital?” Will finally relents.

 

“Yes. Yes, take me home.” Hannibal whispered, sweat dripping from the tips of his nose as full body pain flared up and sent him down into a hunch.

 

Will quickly nodded and went to request to see a doctor. When he came back to the room, Hannibal was clawing at his hospital gown, twisting his body to see the growing pain on his back. Will quickly went to stop him at a loss on what to do. The doctor would never release Hannibal like this.

 

“The pain… I can’t bear it Will… It’s too much.”

 

Will nodded, trying to keep himself calm and not let the guilt paralyze him to inaction. He tried to make Hannibal lay back down onto the bed but the man kept hissing as if his back was on fire. Curiosity overwhelmed him and he lifted Hannibal’s gown to see the extent of his injuries.

 

What he saw made him froze him right in place.

 

“Please Will.” Hannibal murmured, his voice desperate and subdued. “Don’t let me die in a hospital like some common _man.”_

 

“You’re not dying Hannibal.” Will whispered. “You’re changing.”

 

There was no time to decipher his lover’s cryptic words, for with the next wave of pain, Hannibal promptly blacked out. Oblivion was a blessed reprieve from the pain in his back, though he loathed to be separated from his Will again.

 

The last thing Hannibal remembered was the opening click of the windows and the heavenly shrill of his angelic wings. They sang for him, those children of his, and Hannibal wondered if they would remember him after he die.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

Fate was a cruel mistress. She tempted him with flashes of the afterlife, with images of Mischa playing in some idyllic meadow where she beckoned him with calls of “Brother! Brother!”, while keeping him firmly entrenched to life.

 

Ripped between two planes of existence, Hannibal kept shifting in and out of consciousness. Everything seemed like it was seen through frosted glass, hazy and unclear, but amongst the debilitating pain that kept him awake, Hannibal could still make out his lover’s presence, steadfast and strong.

 

Will’s scent comforted him, and when the pain sent him screaming in agony, he was there to soothe him with cooling rags and gentle whispers. When his bones began to crack and break, Will offered him his wrist to bite down for relief.

 

When his head began to feel like it was being fractured into a thousand pieces, Will place his cool palm over them to show Hannibal that they had remained intact. The man strove to bring him relief in his agony filled world, touching every part of him with so much love that it made Hannibal heart want to burst.

 

Time ceased to retain its meaning or significance, but Hannibal was not lost in it’s absence. He took comfort for Will remained by his side, alleviating his pain with his companionship and warming his shivering body with his own. It was still a sorry existence filled with torment, but it was sweetened by the man all the same.

 

His wretched existence continued, and on the third day the impossible happened. The pain on his head and back intensified, sending Hannibal spasming on his sweat laden bed like a pinned down insect. His constant headache erupted into a full-blown migraine, and back felt like it was being lashed by a fiery hot rod.

 

When Will came near Hannibal growled, his eyes completely black as he endured the torturous transformation, but Will remained, placing his cool hand between his shoulder blades to inspect the growing lumps moving beneath his fevered skin.

 

“It’s time to push, baby.” Will cooed, brushing his damp hair away from his eyes. Hannibal whined, pulling away from the pain but deep inside he knew that Will was right.

 

His stomach tightened and every hair on his body raised in goosebumps. Hannibal howled, a heart shattering thing that made Will wasn’t to swaddle him in soft blankets and hold him close. The bumps on his back became raised, hard blunt edges turning pointy until blood-soaked bone pierced through his flesh and drew blood.

 

“Yes, that it Hannibal.” Will gushed, unable to contain his excitement. Hannibal crawled over to him, clutching onto his lap as he held onto the man for purchase. “One more time baby. You can do it.”

 

He didn’t want to push. The pain was unlike anything eh has ever experienced. It rendered his soul apart to make space for a foreign entity that became him. Hannibal wanted to reject it, to enforce his sovereignty over this _thing_ that has settled heavily onto his back and head.

 

One look at Will’s loving gaze made him stop. Some things like love were inevitable, and fighting it would only lead to death. Hannibal does not wish for oblivion, not when his beloved has returned to his side and stayed there so willingly. He wanted to live, but more importantly, he wanted Will.

 

Taking one deep, fortifying breath, Hannibal accepted the foreign mass into himself. As it ripped itself out from his shoulder blades, Hannibal cried out. His head became heavy as blood trickled down his forehead and his arm tingled as if insects had just swarmed around him. The moment he gave in, the pain began to cease, leaving him loose limbed and tired as his lover crawled next to him and held him tenderly.

 

“Hello there little ones.” Hannibal heard Will murmured, but before he could ask him who he was talking to, sleep overtook his senses and just like the pain, Hannibal did not fight it when it came to claim him.

 

 

***

 

 

A soft rustling woke Hannibal from his sleep. He found Will by his side, a basin of bloody water by his side as he slowly dipped a red stained rag and brought over to his back.

 

The heaviness on his back and head and the familiar stroking motion of Will’s hand was enough to inform the man of his situation. As calm and composed as ever, Hannibal turned his head to see behind him. Out of the corner of his eyes Hannibal could see feathers, dark and laden with blood, and something inside of him sang in pure joyous glee.

 

“I remember the first time I did that for you. I stayed up all night wiping the blood and fat from each individual feathers.” Hannibal mumbled, his voice rough from disuse, but he was smiling nonetheless. His companion did not share his optimism, for Will hung his head low and turned away from him to empty the dirty basin.

 

Puzzled by the man’s shame, Hannibal gingery sat up, finding himself too weak to even support himself on his feet. He ran his fingers through his sweat dampened hair, stopping when he round hard protrusions growing from his skull like branches on an oak tree.

 

“Oh.” He said, feeling the hard protrusions, _feeling_ his fingers slide across them. He turned to Will, the man standing near the doorway with a pained expression on his face.

 

“I’m sorry Hannibal.” He said, face downcast and lips pulled into a tight frown.

 

“Whatever for?” Hannibal asked, confused by Will’s overall demeanor.

 

“For turning you into a monster like me.”

 

“A monster…” The doctor chuckled and shook his head. He offered up his hand, beckoning Will to come close. His white wings surged ahead of him, pulling the reluctant man towards his lover until he was enveloped in Hannibal’s arms. “My dearest Will… I have never seen you as something like that.” He whispered.

 

Tightly coiled in Hannibal’s weak arms, Will finally relaxed and held the man back, his eyes staring at the two shadowy figures that framed Hannibal’s back. His heart ached, torn between a profound sense of admiration and guilt.

 

“Show me. Show me what has got you trembling so.” Hannibal whispered, his own words quivering in anticipation.

 

“Are you sure?” Will asked, his eyes already brimming with tears. The doctor merely smiled and brushed his chocolate locks.

 

“Yes beautiful. Show me.”

 

 

***

 

 

Hannibal could feel his wings even without the mirror, they were the only part of his body not tethering on the brink of exhaustion. Light and substantial, they floated above the ground as if held up by some invisible ether, and the moment his eyes fell on their reflection, Hannibal felt powerful.

 

Dark as raven feathers and glimmering with life, his two wings rose above him like shadows manifested into flesh. Whereas Will’s talons were obsidian black, his was a bony ivory, as sharp as a Neolithic knife tribesman used to laughter their kin, stained brown from the dried blood that clung to the ridges of his bones.

 

His arms were fully healed, the large chunks of missing muscles fully restored to a pristine stretch of skin. Hannibal ran his fingers over his arms, in awe of his recovery while lamenting the lack of mementoes of his selfless offering.

 

But what made him stop was not his wings nor the miraculous recovery of his wounds. Hidden beneath the edges of his hairline a pair of jet-black antlers rose from the ashy wave of his hair, each trunk branching into three sharp points, as smooth as obsidian and as sharp as one too. Hannibal reached up to touched them, and like Will’s wings, the rumbled at the touch, a temperamental little thing who was only soothed when Will cam over to put his hand over them.

 

Hannibal turned to Will, so full of wonder and awe. Fantasy and reality has crossed the permeable membrane of his own existence and Hannibal was at a loss on what to do.

 

Though his thoughts still weighed heavily over Will’s mind, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the befuddled look on the previously unflappable doctor. Will came close and placed his hand on those raven wings, soothing them with his touch as the individual feathers that reacted fir him began to settle in contentment.

 

“There’s an old native American folklore about the Wendigo.” Will whispered behind him, staring at his new crown melancholically. “A man who gorged himself on the flesh of men would turn into horrible beast of unquenchable hunger. The whole tribe would come together and kill them to purify the land and protect the community.”

 

“A symbol of excess and consumption.” Hannibal huffed, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Fitting, no?” He asked, tilting his antlered head towards his lover in humor.

 

“I tried to kill myself because I wanted to save the tribe the struggle of killing me.” Will said tightly. The days of starvation and loneliness still haunts him, and even now he couldn’t be alone without it’s ghost clawing at his consciousness.

 

Hannibal watched his lover quietly, immediately dismissive of his own new discovery as he focused on his lover’s distress.

 

“If a tribe would place a sentence on a creature of beauty such as yourself, then the tribe itself is not worth saving.” He said, believing in every word he just uttered. Will shook his head and turned away, the demons of his mind still tormenting him, but Hannibal held onto him tenderly. “Tribes are formed amongst people of similar attributes and values. If anything you belong to my tribe, my love, not with the strangers whose no better that a herd cattle or sounders of pigs.”

 

Upon hearing the man callously refer to other men as animals, Will pushed him away, self loathing manifesting into anger. “You’re a bastard, you know that.” Will hissed, his own wings raised up in anger. “You couldn’t just let me die in peace. You had to trick me and-“

 

“Offer you my flesh?” the man asked, pulling the rest of the bandages down to show Will his fully recovered arm. Still, the sight of it made the man jerked away.

 

Will cradled himself in the wings sustained by the flesh of his beloved. “You’re enabling me. You’re letting a monster live.” He said, tone accusatory and defeated.

 

“And you pulled me out of from the jaws of death. Tell me my dear, what drove you to enable a murderer such as I to live?”

 

Silenced was the only answer to Hannibal’s question, but the man did not need to say his answer out loud for the doctor to understand him. It was there in the gentle way he wiped his forehead and cleaned his wings. It was there when he thanked Hannibal for staying alive after enduring the madness and violence of his childhood. It was there when he stayed with Hannibal even as he cursed him out.

 

It’s love. It has always been love.

 

When Will sunk deeper into his wings, Hannibal sighed pulled Will, caressing his wings until he was enveloped into his own. “What shall we do with us terrible monsters, hm? Shall we starve ourselves and see which of us is strong enough to let the other die?”

 

The teasing edge to Hannibal’s words fell flat on Will’s ear, and the man began to retreat into himself once more. “Will.” Hannibal chided, pulling the man close to his chest. “I’m sorry I kept it all from you. I only ever wanted to spare you from the moral horror of killing other humans.” The doctor sighed. “You were so pure. So untouched from the shadows that I’ve lived in my whole life. I knew you couldn’t possibly reconcile such acts, even if it was done for your own preservation.”

 

“Then what of the moral horror of my existence doctor? How do I reconcile that?” Will shook away from Hannibal’s weakened arms, indignant and angry all over again, though his fuse quickly ran out. He leaned against the door of the bathroom, tormented by the vivid images of the strangers he consumed as his wings demanded for him to return to their killer’s arms.

 

If it was any other person, Hannibal would’ve used his wings to sliced them out of existence. He was never one to tolerate the strange back of forth of those with inferior moral fortitude. Such weakness was beneath him, and he does not associate with weaklings that may contaminate his own strength.

 

But faced with his lover, Hannibal did not feel disgust or impatient. Instead, there was an outpouring of sympathy for the man’s pain. He could not empathize with other pigs nor can he grieve for them like Will does, but Hannibal understood the anguish of Will’s struggle. It asks the essential question about one self, stripping them of their borrowed illusions and false notion of safety.

 

Some men can go mad when they are faced with the bare bones of what they are. Some choose insanity than to admit the truth of their own being. Will remained, even though it horrified him, he stayed with Hannibal and choose to be with him. Even after the days of tortuous labor, that fact alone made Hannibal want to take Will’s pain and take it as his own.

 

“Look at us.” Hannibal turned the man towards the mirror and lifted up his chin. “Do we look like creatures bound by petty human ethics? Should a lion deny it’s instinct and gnaw on tumbleweed and dry grass?” He shook his head, defiant in the face of such indignity. “There is nothing for the lion to reconcile about eating an antelope.”

 

“But all of those lives…” Will whispered, trying to hold onto the last shred of his guilt even as he was entranced by the glorious picture that their two figures made. They looked nothing like the humans Will grieved for. They looked like living gods, mirrors of each other with wings and crowns made to kill.

 

“I would end a thousand more if it would give me one more day with you. Would you not do the same?” whispered the man, and in his heart Will knew that the answer was yes.

 

When Hannibal’s strength failed him and his knees began to buckle, Will shouldered his weight and helped him back into bed. Hannibal’s hand stayed on his, pulling him between his legs so they may lay against each other as they belonged. He winced when Will laid his head over his chest, but Hannibal wouldn’t move even if the room was on fire.

 

Nothing feels as good as having Will right there in his arms, healthy and alive.

 

Falling heavy against his chest, Will settled his weary body against Hannibal, listening to the minute noises of his body. After so many weeks of silence, it feels good to listen to the evidence of live of another person. The doctor combed his finger through hair, comforting the man even in his weakened state. “Thank you for taking care of me my love. Your presence helps more than you know.”

 

“Of course. I will always take care of you Hannibal.” Will said. He surprised himself with his steadfast declaration, for despite the sorrow he felt for his own existence, Will knew that promise will always ring true.

 

They were the only two of their kind, and even if they were not, Will would never abandon Hannibal ever again.

 

“What are we going to do?” asked the man. His voice sounded small and lost, trusting not even himself as he turned to his lover for guidance.

 

“We will eat. We will survive.” Hannibal answered. “We will live our lives to the fullest and thrive even when others don’t. You may think that we don’t deserve it, but we will do it nonetheless.” A kiss was placed upon the crown of Will’s head, and the antlers shadowed over them both like the silhouette of his great oak tree. “I want your forever, Will. Let me give you mine.”

 

Will closed his eyes, feeling that every ounce of his being resonating with that sound. He nodded and looked up to his beloved. He made a fearsome figure, all dark and menacing with edges sharp enough to kill, but in his eyes he saw beauty and power, and Will was glad that he had this man to call as his.

 

“You’re right Hannibal.” He said, reaching up to run his fingers through his antlers and wings. “It’s beautiful.”

 

The newborn rumbled in satisfaction, and Will’s white wings answered with a soft trill of their own. In the darkness, talons clasped with each other as they made music into the night. When morning came, Will no longer had any reservations of his own being.

 

“Are you hungry my love?” Hannibal asked, smile softened by sleep and tempered with love. Will answered in kind, his toothy grin spreading Hannibal’s lips in excitement.

 

“Starving.”

 

 

***

 

“This doesn’t make sense.” Jack said, staring hard onto the dissected parts of Freddie Lounds that has been frozen and thawed a dozen times this month. Beverly, Brian, and Zeller all surrounded the autopsy table, all worn and at the end of their wits. “She exhibits the tell tale signs of the ripper murders. Elaborate display, missing organs, overt pretentious symbolism-” He slammed a thick file on his table, rubbing his face in exasperation. “So why the hell did Will tell us that this wasn’t the Ripper!”

 

The three agents looked at each other. They’ve rehashed this conversation over a million times over, and each conversation left them to the same conclusion. A dead end.

 

“We need Will.” Jack growled. “Somebody get me Will Graham!”

 

 

***

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	20. Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A terrible discovery forces Jack to confront Hannibal, but unlike Freddie, He is armed and ready to kill.

 

 

Alana walked into Quantico, her mind cluttered with the worries and stresses of her life. Her class in Georgetown has kept her busy, and with Will taking an extended holiday, another task has fallen to her already full plate.

 

Though she was no stranger to consulting for the FBI, the request still caught her off guard. These days Hannibal was the one they call in to take Will’s place, so for her to be called in would mean that both men were either unavailable or unwilling to participate in the case.

 

It was completely bizarre, but Alana thought nothing of it. She didn’t know just what was going through their heads these days. Neither men had talked to her ever since Will visited her with his pack of beers.

 

So she focused on her work in the university and kept her mind occupied on the case, but after a month of zero progress Alana found herself desperate for some new insights.

Before she walked into Quantico for yet another unproductive meeting, the woman decided that it’s time to pay Will a visit. Afterall, nobody knows the Ripper better than he did.

 

At first, she was hesitant. Their little disagreement was still fresh in her mind. Will looked so broken back then, completely lost as he learned on Alana’s feelings about Hannibal and him. After he left, she sat alone in her room, downing a glass of wine as she reflected and analyzed her own feelings to death.

 

Despite their encounter and obvious differences, Alana still considered Will her friend. He was kind to her, respectful in ways that other men just wasn’t, and sardonically funny in a way she wished she was. In another life, she might even fall in love with him.

 

As uncomfortable as it would be, Alana wanted to make things right, not only for their friendship, but because losing Will would mean losing Hannibal too. Before the man was ever Will’s lover, he was her mentor, a trustworthy confidant, and colleague worth respecting. Putting all of her feelings aside, she wanted to still be in his life, even if it was just as friend.

 

So she drove an hour away from her house to the empty stretch of land that was Wolftrap Virginia. She arrived to a dark house, cold and devoid of life. Alana knocked anyways, but she wasn’t at all surprised when nobody answered.

 

Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was concern, but instead of turning around to her car and driving away, Alana reached down to the handle and open the door. Before she could touch it, a rush cold air blew in from behind her and an invisible force froze her in her place.

 

It was fear.

 

“What are you doing here?” A voice called out suddenly from behind her.

 

Alana jumped, knocking the screen door and rattling both it and her nerves. “Will!” She gasped, holding her chest to calm down her racing heart. “I didn’t hear you come in at all!”

 

The man tilted his head, considering her quietly, face as impassive as ever. There’s something about his eyes that made her shiver, a cold, unfeeling mask that made her want to run away. Swallowing back her fear, Alana put on a nervous smile and motioned inside the house.

 

“Can I come in?”

 

“Now is not a good time.” Will answered, his voice holding an assertiveness that it never did before.

 

“Okay...” She frowned, sensing that something was amiss with the man. There was no more easy smile and lackadaisical gait. He stood tall and looming before her, like wolf defending his den.

 

Will has definitely changed. and Alana wasn’t sure that it was for the better.

 

Brushing her the prickling of fear gnawing at her subconscious, Alana shook her head and went right into business.

 

“I needed your help with Freddie Lound’s killer.” Will arched his eyebrow at the mention of her, definitely interested by the case. “We know that it’s the Ripper, but once again we’re stuck in a dead end. Jack is driving everybody nuts, and he just won’t let go of it until we have a new lead.”

 

“That’s because it’s not the Ripper.” Will said, looking aggravated at the mention of their boss. “Tell Jack that and maybe then you’ll have some new leads.”

 

“But the signs are all there. The organ removal. The surgical precision.” Alana huffed. “And amongst his previous victims were politicians who bulldozed nature reserves, bigot, all sorts of unsavory character scattered amongst the innocents. We both know that she would fall into the category he considered… uncouth.”

 

Will sighed and waved his hand, quickly dismissing the profile she worked so hard on for the past month. “The Ripper would never kill Freddie the same way a narcissist would never break his mirrors.” He said “You forget that Freddie has made plenty of enemies in her life. You’ll have better luck looking into that list than finding new evidence on the Ripper.”

 

“Maybe she wrote something that offended him.” Alana mused, ignoring his suggestion all together. “Or she angered him, somehow?”

 

“These conjectures will only keep you in a loop Alana. I’ve told you what I think, so.” He shrugged, brushing past her to unlock his house. When Alana didn’t move from her spot, he turned and propped his hand up on the doorframe, blocking her from peering inside. “Can I help you with anything else?”

 

“Oh!” The woman blushed, both slighted and embarrassed by Will’s terse attitude. “Will, I wanted to-” she began, an apology primed at the tip of her tongue, but when she saw his face, Alana knew that the man was not interested in repairing their relationship whatsoever. “Never mind. Thanks for your help.”

 

“Hm.” Will merely replied, watching Alana closely until her car disappeared from the long stretch of road of his house. Behind him his wings twitched impatiently.

 

“I know. I miss him to.” Will muttered to them. “We’ll tidy up real quick and get back to him, yes?” He said, stepping into his empty home and immediately stripping his bed of the blood stained sheets.

 

The smart thing to do was to burn them. Afterall, it was the only thing that would tie Hannibal’s injuries to him, and yet he remained on his feet, unmoving as he stared down to the stiff fabric on his hand.

 

In his pockets were the matches he brought for this very occasion, but no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, Will couldn’t bring himself to destroy it.

 

Hannibal’s sacrifice was etched between it’s fibers, lifeblood caking into dark rust. Will felt so possessive of it, already remembering the taste of Hannibal’s flesh between his teeth. To burn it would be like burning the Shroud of Turin, for just as Jesus died for the soul of mankind, so did Hannibal, his own personal savior worthy of his love and worship.

 

It’s strange. Will has never been a sentimental man, but when it comes to Hannibal he just couldn’t seem to let things go. The man was more than just a lover. He was his kin, bound closer to him than even his family.

 

Together they were the only one of their kind, and just as Hannibal gathered the fallen feathers from his wings, Will couldn’t bear parting from the sheets where they consummated their bond.

 

He stepped out of his clothes and wrapped the sheets around himself. They settled heavy around him, scratchy and stiff to the touch, but his wings trilled in contentment as the scent of Hannibal’s blood fully engulfed them. Cradled in his lover’s sacrifice, Will stepped out into the snow and spread out the wings that Hannibal brought to life.

 

“Lets go home.” He said, lifting up in the sky and abandoning the house that was his refuge. He had no need for that sad, empty building anymore. His home is wherever Hannibal was, and it will remain that way until the only light left in the universe was the shine from Hannibal’s eyes.

 

Across the grey winter sky, one might mistake the fluttering red sheet as a falling star, but as long as Hannibal was at his side, Will knew that he would never burn out.

 

 

***

 

 

Alana came just in time to hear the tail end of Jack’s tirade. It felt less like a place of work and more like a classroom full to chastised student. Everybody in the morgue looked tired and lost, staring helplessly at Freddie’s corpse that seemed to thaw from Jack’s glare alone. Four sets of eyes turned to her and Alana said, “I just met up with Will to get his input and he keeps saying that we should be looking at other suspects. It’s not The Ripper.”

 

Her quiet declaration pulled a resounding sigh from across the room. “Well he’s wrong.” Jack growled, slamming walking past her to sequester himself in his office. Alana raised her eyebrows, surprised at the temper tantrum coming out of the usually professional man. The rest of the team gave her an apologetic look, all of them bearing the burnt of Jack’s frustrations.

 

“Don’t take it personally. He’s been on edge lately.” Beverly said. “I guess the victim being Freddie really shook him or something.”

 

“No, no! It’s his wife. She’s dying you know.” Brian said as he wheeled Freddie’s corpse back into the chiller.

 

“Brian!” Both Beverly and Jimmy groaned, scolding him with their looks alone, but the man looked unrepentant as ever.

 

“What!? Stop glaring at me. It’s not like it’s some big state secret. I mean, I would be distracted too if my wife has stage four cancer and my boss is pushing me to close an impossible case.”

 

Alana considered Jimmy’s words carefully and nodded, her sympathy for jack’s situation overwhelming her indignation from his behavior. Noting their scattered concentration, she excused herself from the team, already lost to their inside jokes and good natured bickering.

 

She walked over to Jack’s office instead, hesitating in front of the intimidating nameplate and the equally intimidating man fuming inside.

 

_Jack Crawford, Head of Behavioral Science Unit_

 

It was a tittle befitting of Jack’s station and dedication. At first Alana came because she thought she could counsel Jack through this hard time. Afterall, the investigation cannot progress without him at its helm. However, she couldn’t seem to take her mind off her strange encounter with Will.

 

Alana knocked on the door, entering when a terse invite came through the door. Jack looked like a wreck. His office was a mess of documents and unopened files, the walls before him filled with pushpins holding up gruesome pictures of the Ripper’s victim. The picture frame on his table was downturn, as if the sight of dead bodies was more preferable that the simple reminder of their marriage.

 

She took a seat and waited patiently for Jack to finish his phone call, though the conversation only seemed to aggravate him further. Alana gave him a weak smile, and Jack fell down to his own worn leather seat, quietly commiserating with the psychologist who only seemed to see the broken piece from his life.

 

“Did Will really say that it’s not the Ripper?” He asked, completely aghast at the insinuation. Alana nodded carefully, readying herself for another outburst of emotions.

 

“But that doesn’t make sense! Everything about this case leads to the ripper, period. It’s insane that he wouldn’t acknowledge that! Will is supposed to be the de facto authority on everything Ripper, so to say that it’s not his crimes is just-” Jacks shook his head. “It’s completely irresponsible. And the timing too! How could he take a goddamn when there’s such a high profile case like this?”

 

“Maybe the work just became too much for him.” Alana supplied, putting on the compassionate voice of a psychiatrist.

 

“This work is too much for _anyone_ to bear, but we still do it because it saves lives. Will was too fragile to see that. That’s why I sent him over to Dr. Lecter. If I had known that their relationship would derail Will’s progress I wouldn’t asked for his help in the first place.”

 

“It’s not fair to either Will or Hannibal, Jack.” Alana frowned. “But I agree that Will seems rather… off.”

 

“How so?” Jack leaned onto the table, his scattered focus coming together at the mention of the struggling profiler.

 

“When I meet him at his house he was rather curt and unfriendly.” Alana reasoned. “Now I know that that’s how he usually is with other people, but this is more than just a defense mechanism Jack. I worry about him.”

 

“That’s the wrong attitude to take. Will never respond well to other people’s concerns for him.” He sighs rubbing the temples of his head, trying his best not to worry about the man. When he saw Alana’s unhappy face, Jack waved her off. “But I can see that you’re quite bothered by this, so I’ll check on him sometime today, alright?”

 

“Thank you Jack. It’s probably nothing, but I just get the feeling that something isn’t right, you know?” Alana rose, smoothing down her clothes and giving him a small smile. “And Will isn’t the only one who can go to a doctor for help. If you need anything you can always talk to me.”

 

Taken aback at her offer, Jack can only manage a small nod. It’s so rare that anybody would offer him a lifeline like this. Usually it’s his job to take care of other people, but with his wife’s cancer and the case’s standstill, he was completely out of his depth.

 

“Thank you Alana.” He said awkwardly. Though he wasn’t really the type to go therapy, Jack still appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Happy that she could help alleviate Jack’s stress, Alana left, quietly wishing him well. When the sound of her heels faded in the halls, Jack reached for the picture of his wife and propped it back to it’s place.

 

“Just a little bit more baby.” He said, placing a kiss on his fingers and caressing her smiling face. “Just let me catch this bastard and we’ll be off to Italy soon.”

 

***

 

 

By the end of the day Jack was no closer to the Ripper than he was before. All of the test were done, and as usual the Ripper left no forensic evidence for his team to go on. It was as if Freddie was brought into the crime lab and dissected there, a sterile environment with the killer in full forensic suits and hairnets.

 

Though his meticulous display was not new, his message was evolving past simple humiliation and contempt. The imagery was as rich as it was horrifying. The gore so stylized that it looked like something out of a renaissance painting. The symbolism confused Jack and his team, for Freddie was neither angelic as her wings suggest, nor gallant like those flowers might say.

 

It was as if the Ripper was talking in code, and his audience was the only one who held the cypher. Not only that, that day marked the end of a one month period, which means that the Ripper has stopped two short of his usual sounders.

 

“Maybe Will was right. Maybe it’s not the Ripper after all.” Jack mused out loud, frowning at the pictures of the crime scene. For a moment it made sense, but the agent quickly dismissed the idea. His gut tell him it was the Ripper, and he would be damned if someone who left the team would sow doubt into his mind.

 

After Will waked out of the crime scene, Jack had half of mind to suspend the man. Before he could properly discipline the man for his conduct, he was surprised to find HR notifying him of his leave. That in itself was strange, for Will was as much of a workaholic as Jack was, a ceaseless hound dog who will never stop once he caught scent of his prey.

 

Jack wasn’t sure what the hell is going on, but Alana was right. Something was not right with Will.

 

Desperate for new clues and answer, Jack began thumbing through Freddie’s website. The page was nearly dead just a few months ago, her readership dropping along with the violent murder rates. With her death, the site was as lively as ever, the comments were flooded with grieving fans, all talking about what a brilliant writer she was, that she was a visionary, a journalist ahead of her time.

 

Jack scoffed at blatant display of false virtue. He pitied Freddie, really. She went through life making enemies of people worth befriending, focusing solely on her website and audience, but they couldn’t even be there for her. There is no doubt in jack’s mind that her desperation was what got her in trouble. Whether she found the Ripper was the question.

 

He reached over to his phone, disappointed to find his log devoid of any mentions of his wife. No miscalls, no text, not even an email asking for him to come home. It’s silly of him to expect any different.

 

As a couple, they’ve agreed from the beginning that their personal life should never interfere with their occupations. They’ve forgo kids, vacations, and even a permanent home so they can be mobile and be completely dedicated to their jobs.

 

Now that Bella was housebound, that dynamic has not changed, and secretly Jack wished that it wasn’t so. He wanted to be needed, to be the pillar in his wife’s crumbling world, but she remained distant, content to face death on her own, and Jack was just not ready to be left behind.

 

Despite making zero progress on the case, Jack didn’t feel like coming home to the tomb that has become his house. The office was empty, all the agents has chosen to go home to their own respective lives, and Jack remained alone in his office, thumbing through his message in hopes of finding a distraction away from all of the mess that was in his head.

 

His thumb hovered over Dr. Lecter’s name. Despite his rocky relationship with Will, Hannibal has always been a good friend to him. It’s unfortunate that Freddie died, but his advice on blocking her number did help him.

 

A flash of brilliance came over him. Maybe Freddie left something for him before she died. She was always hounding him for a tip, even going so far to the point of harassment. Now that she’s dead, there was no reason to keep the number blocked.

 

In an instant his phone went off in a series of dings and whistles, heralding the dozens of incoming messages from Freddie, dating back as far back as on the day that she died.

 

Most of it was more pesky journalist questions, some were hare brained conspiracies theories that he will have someone look into tomorrow, but the ones that irked him the most were the pointed accusations that borders on namecalling.

 

Clearly, she was more interested in baiting his anger than to contribute to the investigation.

 

Jack sighed and shook his head, thinking that if he resorted to reading Freddie’s trash text then he might as well go home to his wife. Her cold shoulder was much preferable than sorting through this mountain of sensationalist garbage.

 

He pocketed his phone and dragged his feet to his car, hoping that at least dinner was on the table. When he glanced down to his phone, he found a single text message in his inbox. Without much thought Jack played it as he pulled out of the FBI offices, and what he heard almost sent him crashing through the gates.

 

“ _Oh my god. Jack! Please pick up. It’s Freddie Lounds. I was wrong it’s not Will Grah-“_ Her loud shrieking tore through his eardrums, followed by a large bump that sounded like a man breaking through a door behind her.

_“It’s Hannibal Lecter! Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper!”_ She sobbed, the confidence that fueled her incendiary brand of journalism gone, leaving only fear and helplessness.

_“Please Jack…. I don’t want to die.”_ Freddie’s voice whimpered one last time before the phone clicked into silence.

 

 

***

 

 

Jack knew that what he was doing was reckless, but the sharp sense of betrayal spurred him to race his car faster than the winter gale gathering outside. He should’ve called his team, reported the voicemail as a piece of evidence, but jack was no longer interested in doing things by the book.

 

He wanted to confront Hannibal and end him.

 

How could he have been so blind? Hannibal fit the profile so perfectly. He had surgical and forensic knowledge, the means and space to do his work, and if one scrutinized his endless parades of suits and interest, it’s clear that narcissism and superiority was a part of the man’s vices.

 

“And the organs… oh god.” Jack stopped his car and rushed out onto the snow covered ground, heaving and retching as coffee and bile rushed out of his mouth. “That bastard.” Jack hissed, a kaleidoscope of Hannibal’s many dishes running through his head.

 

No wonder Will kept getting sick. He was being fed human meat all this time. Jack thought it was stress, an explanation that Hannibal readily supported, but he knew that being Hannibal’s partner, Will must’ve been the one who suffered through most of groetesque dishes.

 

Was that why Will said that Freddie’s murder wasn’t the Rippers? Did he knew about Hannibal’s true identity and protected him from the investigation? ‘ _No. He couldn’t have.’_ He thought, blood turning ice cold.

 

Despite his mounting suspicion, Jack brushed all of those thoughts aside. The Will Graham he knew would never stand aside and let such horrific acts slide for something like love. Men of justice like them are made of better stuff than that, and until he was proven otherwise, Jack was sure that Will would stand beside him when he confront Hannibal for his crimes.

 

 

***

 

Amongst the heavy white snow that blanketed the neighborhood the Lecter house stood bright and warm, a picturesque place of subdued opulence and comfort. It was the farthest thing from serial killer’s home, but that’s the thing about monsters and their nest. You never know you’re in one until their teeth are deep enough to scrape your bones.

 

The front door was heavy but unlocked, and Jack was reminded of Will’s lectures. Predators never secure their nest, because to them, anyone who wanders in was nothing more than prey.

 

There was a distinct aroma of spices and broth, a comforting scent that never fails to bring Jack back to his home and Bella. Now, it only made him sick, for he knew what was behind every masterful creation Hannibal served to his guest.

 

With his gun out and loaded, Jack slowly crept to the kitchen. Inside his mind he was still debating weather he should shoot or confront the man first. He supposed that the order didn’t matter much. One way or another, Hannibal Lecter will die tonight and he will finally go home to his wife and give her that one last trip they both sorely needed.

 

He whipped around a corner wall and found Will standing a boiling pot, squinting as he read recipe card, his glasses fogging up from the steam. “Will.” Jack sighed out in relief, and in an instant Will turned his eyes to him, sharp blue eyes piercing as the fog on his glass slowly fade.

 

“Jack. Why do you have a gun with you?” He said, calm and unbothered as he eyed the loaded weapon in Jack’s hand.

 

“You have to get out of here. Hannibal-“

 

“Shh… He’s resting now. You’ll wake him up.” Will whispered, pushing Jack out of the kitchen and into the dining room. “What’s wrong?”

 

Dumbfounded and exasperated, Jack switched the safety off his gun and raised it right to Will’s temple. “You knew, didn’t you?” He growled, trembling at the eerie feeling prickling at the back.

 

“Whoa, whoa! Know what? Calm down.” Will frowned, fearlessly grabbing the muzzle and holding it down. “Jack you’re really scaring me right now.”

 

Gasping from the rush of adrenaline inside of him, Jack looked around the kitchen, seeing no red meat, just boundless spices in jars pulled from the cupboard around him. He let out a heavy breath, relieved that his suspicions were unfounded.

 

“Of course you didn’t know. He was the one making you sick all these time.” Jack muttered, turning to Will with great urgency. “I know why you’ve been so sick Will. Hannibal has been feeding human meat.” He said, guilt twisting deep in his heart for the man he was supposed to lead and protect.

 

For a while Will just stared back at him, face blank with shock. Slowly he raised his head, unable to keep down the chuckle growing deep in his belly. Jack cursed knowing well enough that Will would jump straight to denial to rationalize him being with a cannibal.

 

“Oh Jack, you have it all wrong.” Will smiled and wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of his eyes. “The human meat wasn’t the one making me sick. The human _food_ was.” He whispered, low and sinister.

 

Though Jack recognized each syllable uttered from Will’s lips, the chained words didn’t make sense to him. “I don’t understand.” He said, trying to make sense of this ludicrous situation.

 

“Of course you don’t. You’re only human.”

 

His words sent his body to an overdrive. Every nerve in Jack’s worn body was screaming for him to run. He tried to step away, but Will’s hand on his wrist has tightened to an impossible pressure. Jack lost his grip on his gun, sending it clattering down onto the hardwood floor. “So you do know. That Hannibal is the-“

 

“The Ripper?” Will chuckled, not even shaken by Jack’s attempt to escape. “Oh of course I do Jack. He’s my partner. We tell each other everything, don’t we Hannibal?” Will said, smiling past behind Jack’s shoulder to greet the looming shadow slowly creeping closer.

 

Hannibal stepped out of the shadow, more terrifying in the light now that Jack knew his true nature. “You bastard.” He hissed, but the man merely tilted his head, his expression feline and amused.

 

“Can you see them jack?” Hannibal asked pointing to the crown of antlers above his head. “Can you see these?” The man stepped closer, his wings outstretched wide, the white bones of his talons scraping the wooden panels of his home.

 

But to Jack, he looked just like any other man.

 

 “You’re crazy.” The agent growled. In that moment his training and instinct took over. Knowing he couldn’t brute force his way out of Will’s grip, Jack rolled down onto the floor, using his whole body weight to bring Will with him.

 

Seeing his lover topped, Hannibal roared. His eyes turning black and inhuman. He leapt over the dining table, missing Jack by a hair and crashing against the French doors. Glass shattered and rained down upon them. Though the mess Jack reached for his gun.

 

Hannibal rose, shaking the glass from his back with a great heave of his wings. He took a step, talons poised for the kill, but before he could lunge down Jack had the gun trained on him and the trigger pulled.

 

The bullet whizzed, ripping through air, flesh, and bones of the Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal gasped and fell to his knees, and for a brief moment Jack felt victorious until a hand grabbed his head and smothered him into the ground and knocked his gun out of sight.

 

“You DARE?!” Will howled, bringing down his fist and clast upon Jack’s face. His skull cracked on impact, flesh tore. Jack tried to fight back, but an invisible force pinned both of his hands to the ground, a hole in each palm as he was held down in a twisted crucifix where his sacrifice saved nothing short of his conscience.

 

“Will…” A feeble cry came from behind him.

 

Ceasing his assault, Will stood up with his bloody wrist walking over to his lover to murmured soothing words to him as he dug the bullet out from his shoulder with his bare fingers.

 

“You careless idiot.” He chided, purring and nuzzling his beloved, sighing in relief at the relatively minor injury. Hannibal merely smiled up to him, adoring and captivated by the man he can proudly call his own. They leaned against each other, nuzzling against each other’s skin despite the gore covering their body.

 

Alone on the cold floor, Jack mustered the last remaining strength he had left and crawled towards the monsters. Barely alive, he grabbed at one of the monster’s ankles, a warrior even in death.

 

Will look down on the man he used to look up to and scoffed, amazed at the length the human body would go through even so close to death. He grabbed Jack’s by the scruff of his collar, raising him easily with one hand.

 

For a moment his touch turned gentle and warm, and he held Jack’s arm with the familiarity of an old friend. Jack blinked, peering up at him with his one surviving eyes.

 

“I see it.” He choked. “W…wings!” He sputtered staring at the red dripping down Will’s angelic white feathers and Hannibal’s monstrously black ones. “And horns. Oh my god, you’re the devil.”

 

Will only shook his head, sad that even when others can see him they remained blinded to his true nature. “No Jack. They’re crowns.”

 

Before the man could curse or scream, Will leaned down and bit out his throat, ripping past ligament and bones to crush the last remaining life out of him. Blood gurgled out of his lips, and within a minute Jack Crawford was silenced forever.

 

“Beautiful.” Hannibal murmured, eyes shining bright as he looked to his beloved with eyes of a man completely drunk on love. Will chuckled and went to him, discarding the corpse to fall carelessly onto the ground.

 

With the same teeth that gave mercy to Jack, Will raised his own wrist and bit down onto it, offering his blood and flesh against Hannibal’s lips. The man drunk greedily from him, life giving ambrosia warming his body and mending his wounds. Hannibal was ravenous, but he pulled away from Will’s hand to drink deeply of his lips.

 

 “You killed for me. You risked dying for me.” Hannibal murmured, tenderly mirroring the words Will said to him to him just a few days ago.

 

Will smiled, stroking his cheek. “Of course. I want your forever.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3


	21. Sentimental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting rid of Jack, Hannibal comes home to an unexpected surprise. Meanwhile the people in Will’s and Hannibal’s lives began to notice the change on the two men, with one person glimpsing behind their human façade.

Hannibal supposed that he takes so much pleasure in presentation, in his food and kill that is, lied in the fact that he hides his true self behind a tightly curated affectation.

 

There was freedom in creating something fleeting. His precious tableaus will be deconstructed, either by the forensic team or his dinner guest. While other might want to encase their greatest achievements in amber, Hannibal find solace in the finite nature of his creations. Once they are gone, they take on a new life between the spaces of his neurons, memories only his to enjoy in quiet moment of nostalgia.

 

Yet after meeting Will, Hannibal began to detest such ephemerality. Moments shared with his lovers deserved to be sculpted in the most beautiful marble, each frame a masterpiece he wished to share for others now and for millennia to come.

 

It’s no doubt selfish and irrational, but the man make him feel that way all the time. Hannibal was greedy for Will’s time, forever hungry for his touch, and in the brief moment they were parted, a necessity as he discarded Jack’s body, Hannibal found himself desperate to be in Will’s presence again.

 

An addiction he cannot cure. A relentless fire quenched only by his touch. That was what being love with Will Graham feels like, and Hannibal would gladly trade his soul to spend the rest of his life with him.

 

The antlers above his head scraped gently against the roof of his Bentley, and Hannibal chuckled at his hazy reflection in windshield. Maybe he has traded his soul, and these horns were the proof of his transaction. Once Mephistopheles comes for his soul, Hannibal would gladly pay his due. His blood soaked soul is the least he could give for the honor of knowing Will.

 

When he entered his home, the place remained quiet and still. Gone were the signs of struggle that littered his home, his floor immaculate and clean of blood, and the broken French doors were boarded nearly with pieces of woods and wallpaper. The sight warmed Hannibal’s heart, for he could feel Will’s affection in the small gestures the man did for him

 

“Will?” He called, eager to return to his embrace. Only silence answered him, and Hannibal frowned, feeling strangely abandoned. “Come out my love.” He said, peering into his empty kitchen. He could still feel him in the property, the very air was vibrating with his presence, but for the life of him Hannibal couldn’t find the man anywhere.

 

The two black shadows that adorned his backs rumbled and reached towards the garden, almost bounding off his body in their desperation to reach Will. Hannibal chuckled and followed their lead, letting the instinct of his raven feathered companions guide him back to his love.

 

Outside his garden remained frozen, picturesque under the white flurries that capped his dormant plants. The snow on the ground remain unblemished, not a single footstep in sight. His pristine shoes sunk deep into the snow, but Hannibal didn’t even care that me might ruin his expensive footwear. He trudged through his whole garden, searching for Will behind every bush and wall.

 

In his haste to find his beloved, Hannibal even considered uprooting his whole backyard, but before he could carry on with the plan, a quiet giggle above him caught the doctor’s attention.

 

Hannibal turned around, his talons dragging in the snow and scattering everything in an arc of white. “Will.” Hannibal whispered in relief, finding his beloved cradled in the nook of the old oak tree, camouflaged perfectly between it’s snowy branches.

 

“Did I scare you?” Will teased, tilting his head to the side. Hannibal blinked, his eyes seemed to be deceiving him, for behind him a few branched swayed along his gleeful movement.

 

The doctor merely replied with a chuckle, walking to Will’s perch with his arms outstretched. “Come down my dear boy. Let me warm you up.” He called, and Will’s wings hummed in delight.

 

“I’m not cold at all.” Will said, playfully defiant.

 

“Then I shall come up to you then.” Hannibal said, shrugging off the coat he wear like a cape, his own unruly wings eager to be reunited with Will’s.

 

Before he could even touch the tree, Will jumped down from his perched and landed heavily on top of Hannibal. His black wings rumbled in protest, but Will gleeful laughter quieted them down to a pleasant hum. With his vision blocked by a thick wall of icy snow, Hannibal sat up. “You’re a terrible boy Mr. Gra-“

 

His stern words flattered when he saw tines of ivory antlers rising up from Will’s dark locks. “Will.” He whispered breathlessly, reaching up to gently stroke the identically different horns branching out into the sky. Will shivered, leaning close into the warmth of his hand.

 

“They grew when you were out. Hurts like hell, but they look pretty neat, right?” Will grinned.

 

“They’re stunning.” Hannibal gushed, pulling down on the tines so he may kiss his beloved. Will fell easily against his lips, shrouding them both under the his white wings. “You’re just like me. My equal. Mine.” Hannibal growled, possessive and worshipful at the same time. Their antler tangled together, just like the red string of fates that brought them together. “Forever.” Hannibal added fiercely, more alive now more than ever.

 

Will just laughed, so full of joy as he was admired in a way that only Hannibal could. “You’re getting sentimental Doctor.” Will teased, purposely avoiding the words that Hannibal longed to hear.

 

The doctor gently knocked their foreheads together, sending tremors across the earth and covering them in a powdery layer or while. With snowflakes on his lashes Will chuckled and caressed the cheeks of his beloved’ mate, his eyes as fierce as Hannibal’s. “Yes, forever.” He whispered, tangling their horns, their limbs, their lips and tongues until they are perfectly one, melting the snow around them with the heat of their coupling.

 

 

***

 

 

It’s not unusual for Phyllis to sleep in an empty bed. Goal oriented and professionally driven, she and her husband were more married to their work than to each other. Some might say that it’s sad. Afterall, an empty bed was indicative of a dying marriage, but she grew up in a time where women was divided into two camps, those who stayed home and cooked and those who went out and marched for their basic rights. With a mother that does both, Phyllis was determined to follow in her footsteps.

 

Though some men were intimidated by the sight of a strong women, Phyllis never lacked any suitors. Most of them ended not long, for when her partner began to demand that she stayed home and take on a more traditional role, Phyllis quickly packed her bags and move on to her next job assignment. It didn’t matter to them that she makes more money, ‘I grew up with my mother cooking,’ They said, ‘I don’t see why we couldn’t have a family just like that.’

 

Therein lies the problem, for as motherly she may seem, Phyllis’s pride and joy were the things she achieved in her office, not a bundle of crying mess that would incapacitate her for months at a time.

 

What a blessing it was to finally meet Jack. Amongst her thralls of Italian men, Jack stood out, a handsome and stern figure that turned gentle only for her. He was not the only man she fell in love with, after all, a woman like her has more than enough options for companions and lovers. What drew her to him was how his eyes would lit up every time he was called away for a job, the same way it would lit up when he sees her after a long day of work.

 

‘ _There. That’s a man I can build a life with.’_ She thought. Both ambivalent towards childrearing, they promised each other a marriage where they would support each other. A partnership of equals, and for over three decades of marriage they were happy.

 

When Jack found out about the cancer, there was a moment where he turned into those chauvinistic men who tried to control her life. He began to demand that she quit her job, to be with her every time she went to the doctor, and when she refused, he turned cold and distant.

 

It was only natural for him to lash out like that. For a man who saves others by catching bad guys, Jack must’ve felt so helpless against this invisible culprit eating away at her lifeforce. His fear made him irrational, and it was only out of love that Phyllis endured the storm of his husband’s grief.

 

When despondency took him rock bottom, Phyllis came and sit with him, nestling herself amongst the broken dishes he broke out of frustration. “I want to live the last moments of my life just like we always have, because I know there will be a time where I can’t. Then, could you be by my side?”

 

“Of course Bella.” Jack said, hiding his tears in her still intact curls. It was then that she decided to take chemo, for what is marriage if it’s not the compromise you make out of love for each other?

 

Phyllis doesn’t resent Jack for the chemo. She was never one for strong emotions like that. Temperate and even keeled, Phyllis knew the struggles she will face in the months to come. Even so, she still felt relieved to have him by her side. With an insurmountable burden to bear, Jack return to his old self, strong and true, a man she was glad to call her own.

 

That’s why when he didn’t come home, Phyllis couldn’t help but feel a tingling sense of longing for her husband, but to sleep she went anyways, confident that she would find his arms around her in the morning.

 

A loud bang woke her up at four in the morning, starling the woman awake. Phyllis immediately reached behind her, but her hands found nothing but air. “Jack?” She asked, blearily with sleep. His side of the bed remain cold, still folded neatly and waiting for him to fall into. Phyliss rubbed her eyes and tidied the silk scarf around her head, only there not to protect it from frizz and breakage, but more so to hide the ugly bald patches from the aggressive round of chemo.

 

When glass shattered downstairs Phyllis knew that smoothing was amiss. She reached for the gun Jack kept on his bedside drawer, holding it just like he taught her. She made her way downstairs, her stance perfect and arms steady. There was no fear left in her, her cancer took every last bit of it. There’s just a fierce desire to empty the clip into the body of the intruder.

 

Like always the front light remained on for Jack, but aside from the shattered window, nothing in their house was touched. A heavy rock lay between the glimmering shards, wrapped in a note with jagged writing that sent a chill down her spine. Phyllis picked it up and unraveled it, finding it soaked in blood.

 

‘An eye for an eye.’ It said, and this time, her hands begun to shake.

 

“What the…” She frowned, peering outside into the dark, but instead of the intruder or their car, Phyllis saw her husband’s unmistakable figure. “Jack!” She shrieked, rushing out of the windowpane. Phyllis didn’t even feel a jagged edge of glass nicking her calf. She just needed to get to her husband.

 

Gone was the beautiful man that called her Bella. His face was crushed beyond recognition, one of his eyeballs deflated into it’s cavity. His strong arms that held her now limp, pale from the loss of blood.

 

Phyllis didn’t scream, nor did she cry or call for help. She merely untied the scarf around her head and laid it over his face. This man was not Jack. He’s gone now, and she couldn’t bear to remember her husband like this, mauled beyond recognition.

 

She left him there in the driveway, too numb to even grieved. In the cabinet she hid behind a door, Phyllis reached for the hidden syringe she stashed for when she couldn’t bear the pain of living anymore. It’s bigger than the rest, and she fit as much morphine inside the sixty-milliliter tube. It was overkill, but Phyllis wanted to make sure that she didn’t wake up at the end of it.

 

Jack was her last tether to this world, the only one worth enduring all the pain and indignity of slowly wasting away. Now that he’s gone, the world feel much more foreign to her.

 

She did not go peacefully, the overload of drugs sending her unconscious body seizing even before she could pull the plunger completely. The woman didn’t feel her head slamming against the counter, nor did he realize the mess of foam and bile that trickled out her mouth. In her last thought, Phyllis hoped that when she wakes up Jack would be there on the other side, calling her Bella and nothing else.

 

 

***

 

 

 

The death of high level government agent always drew crowds, filling the church pews with more coworker and press than family and friends. Neither of them had much to begin with. They were famously dedicated in their field. The family that did show up were a smattering of estranged cousins, lost in the crowds of standard issued black suit adorned with small American pins.

 

One by one people came up to speak, first rankings officers who cites the great work and spirit they brought in their workplace, then awkward family anecdotes that felt as uncomfortable as the speaker up on the podium. When it came for friends to say a few words, Hannibal stepped up.

 

Dignified yet somber, he took his place up there like he was born there, standing above everyone else, elevated in more ways than one. There was no tears shed in the crowd, just a collection of shattered soul, and it made Hannibal tremble knowing the impact of Will’s kill. His wings rustled impatiently, eager to get back to Will’s side, away from the silent lambs who only stopped bleating for the death of one of their own.

 

“My name is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, and I am blessed to call both Jack and Bella my friends.” He said, smiling sadly at the portraits flanking his sides. “As testified by their beloved family and colleges, both of them were dedicated in their fields. With achievements so vast, it’s easy to overlook the dedication that they have for one another, and I can attest to you that one could only dream of a more enduring love.

 

“We each begins our life alone, scrambling for meaning and connection and failing more often than not. We fall short, we transgress, make a mess of this precious gift of life. Yet somehow in this tangled bed of fate, Bella and Jack found each other, remaining together through one impossible trial after another, and for that, I envy them.

 

“Their end will not be remembered as this violent injustice. When the pain pass and the anger fades, we will look back and see them as the mentor, the leader, the friends that were there in our lowest moments.

 

“Most of all, we will be reminded of how good they were to each other, and it will inspire us all to do just that. In honor of those who has left us, let us cherish those who remained. Thank you Bella. Thank you Jack. Rest well.”

 

It was silent when Hannibal relinquished the podium, but as he descended the steps, crowds began to form around him. Tear filled even the hardest man’s eyes, and they thanked him for his words. The only thing Hannibal could think of how wasteful it was that he couldn’t bottle all those fallen tears. He was sure that one shed from grief would taste sweet even on the most fearful of meats.

 

The only one that stood behind was Will, allowing the masses to brush and his beloved. It didn’t matter. Hannibal belonged to him, and his eyes burned when they met, for he knew that each of those words were dedicated to him, to cherish and to hold, even beyond death.

 

Such a force was too small to separate them. With wings and crowns, they were beyond these mortal’s understanding.

 

As the crowd dispersed, men from both sides came up to carry both casket. The Crawford funeral procession was sparse, the press and acquaintances staying behind to give those who knew them one last moment to say their goodbyes. Hannibal and Will had the honor of being their pallbearers, with Will carrying Jack’s casket with his team and Hannibal leading Bella’s family and friends.

 

Sharing even one grave, the two casket was lowered together into the earth, the slow cranking of the lowering device interwoven amongst solemn hymns and muffled sobs. One by one they offered their handful of earth, until only Will and Hannibal remained, shadowing the shared tombstones with their wings and antlers.

 

“Will.”  Beverly called, each of her shoulder supporting a crying Zeller and Price. “A little help here?” She winced, trying to shake off the two growing men hanging onto her and messily babbling their feelings out in the open. Will chuckled and came to her rescue, putting a hand on Zeller’s and trying to calm him down, only to have the man latch onto him with mumbled apologies of how he treated him badly.

 

Before Hannibal’s jealously even got the chance to flare up, a delicate hand brushed against his wings, hoping to tap his shoulder and catch his attention. Hannibal turned to the figure, surprised to see Bedelia standing in a simple black dress and a mourning hat.

 

“That was a beautiful speech Hannibal.” She said, the corners of her eyes tinged with red.

 

“Thank you. It must be hard for you to lose both patient all at once.” Hannibal said, empathically. He was the one that referred them to her in the first place, waiting to see if Bedelia would betray him and confessed about their shared incident to Jack.

 

“It’s the nature of providing couples therapy. They come as a pair, and they often leave together as well.” She said distantly, her lips quirking up at her own sardonic humor. “Though it’s not often that a couple exits my therapy by leaving this plane of existence entirely. Maybe I’m not cut out for couple’s therapy after all.”

 

“Oh no, not at all.” Hannibal said, denying her self deprecation with a generous shake. “You should take that as a compliment, not as critique. There is no greater joy than to exit this life with the one you love.”

 

“Always the romantic, even in such occasion.” Bedelia smiled thinly. “Though I must admit, it’s quite unlike you to be so sentimental.”

 

Ignoring the hidden barbs behind her words, Hannibal mulled over her observations, trying find a tasteful way to tell her of his new relationship.

 

“I suppose this occasion reminded me of my own loss and grief.” He said, and this time he didn’t have to fake the bereaved look that flashed over his face. “Often the pain was more than what I can bear, even after all these years. Yet I find the burdened lightened.” He turned to Will, chuckling when he noticed him holding his grieving coworkers. “I suppose it’s easy to move on and carry on with your life once someone worth dying for crosses your path.”

 

His almost shy declaration surprised Bedelia enough to curb her lingering fear towards him. “How interesting.” She said, eyeing the man Hannibal was looking fondly towards. “If I didn’t catch you eyeing Mr. Graham just now then I would assume you’ve found a new religion”

 

“Will does inspire something akin to a religious fervor in me.” Hannibal admitted with a chuckle, making Bedelia laugh hard enough that the corners of her inscrutable eyes scrunched up in glee. For a moment they shared in the joy of each other company, forgetting about the shared scandal they buried together.

 

“I’m glad that you’ve found happiness Hannibal. Maybe we can discuss it in your next appointment?” Bedelia said, intrigued now at the development. Just what kind of person could love a monster like Hannibal Lecter?

 

Before he politely agreed as he always does, Hannibal considered her words and ended up shaking his head. “I’m afraid I won’t be coming in for a while.”

 

“Too good for my therapy now you’ve found your religion?” Bedelia teased.

 

“Too occupied. I will strive on living my life than constantly scrutinizing it like I usually do.” He said, already excited to fulfill all those promises he made to Will atop of his ancient oak tree.

 

“I see you’ve overcome the thing that all psychiatrist struggled with.” Bedelia smiled, secretly relived to be release from his service. She will happily keep his secret, quietly disappearing into anonymity and hope that her greatest shame might fade from his memory.

 

Bedelia noticed woman standing behind them, her frown deep with disapproval as she caught the tail end of their conversation. Eager to exit the scene, she tipped he head down and bid her last and only patient goodbye “All the best Hannibal.”

 

“And to you, Dr. Du Maurier.” Hannibal said, returning her pleasantries while riffling through the many recipes that would suit her flesh. His thoughts were quickly derailed as Alana took her place, clearly ready to give him a piece of her mind.

 

“Did I hear you right Hannibal? Are you going to stop seeing your therapist now that you’re together with Will?” She asked, too shocked to even wipe away the tracks of tears that had long since dried on her cheeks.

 

“It’s very rude to eavesdrop Alana.” Hannibal said, not at all interested in the lecture she was sure to have. “That was a private conversation between me and my psychiatrist.”

 

“You know firsthand how important frequent check ins are in our line of work.” Alana continued, earning Hannibal’s ire by further ignoring him. “Especially when your partner works solving gruesome murders with the FBI. Will is hardly a stable-”

 

“I hear you two talking about someone’s unstable.” Will called cheerfully, coming up from behind them with his talons out and ready. “You must be talking about me.” He grinned, sliding his hand around Hannibal’s waist, openly holding him out in the public for all to see.

 

Alana blanched and looked away, as if the sight of them together disturbed her greatly. Seeing her so shaken pleased Will greatly, and he pulled Hannibal tighter, relishing in her discomfort as the memories of her lording herself over him played in both of their minds.

 

“Thank you for worrying about Hannibal, Alana, but he’s fine. And when he’s not, I’ll take care of him myself.” Will declared, staring at her unblinkingly just to unnerve her further. Hannibal smiled to him, an adoring penitent cradled beside his living god. The doctor rested his head against Will’s, their unseen crowns twinkling against each other like chimes in the winds.

 

In her haste to look away, Alana noticed a flash, a glimmer of smoothing sharp and monstrous behind them. Instantly Will and Hannibal stiffened, instinctively knowing that Alana had seen a glimpse of their true forms.

 

“This isn’t healthy Hannibal.” Alana stuttered, still stubbornly set in place in her opinion. “If you continue this I will have no choice but to-“

 

“Silence.” Hannibal said, low and dangerous as his eyes blacked completely. Will tightened his hold, holding him in an embrace as he gentled his lover with gentle whispers and touches. Hannibal heaved

 

Feeling like a rabbit in a hunter’s snare Alana, stood petrified. “You should go if you know what’s good for you.” Will said coldly.

 

“Or stay. Join us for dinner.” Hannibal insisted, his smile thin and dangerous, his murderous intent clear in the staccato he pushed through his gritted teeths. “I have the perfect recipe just for you.”

 

“I… I…” Alana stammered, not knowing what to say. Instead he broke off into a jog, her heels sinking into the frozen ground from the sheer force of her fearful steps.

 

Hannibal nose twitched, unhappy that he couldn’t control himself enough to charm Alana into her death. “Hey now.”  Will cooed, rubbing the corner of his downturned lips. “We haven’t lost her yet. Why don’t we hunt her down instead?” He said, much to the pleasure of their trilling wings.

 

Hannibal grinned and nodded, eyes returning to his deep rich color as he regained control over himself. Together they moved as one, steps falling into each other as they zeroed in on their quarry. Alana was already out in the read, her keys clutched between her fingers. Alone with no one else around, Will spread his wings, ready to launch himself at her and sink his talons into her heart.

 

Just as the wind begin to gather around him, a timid yip caught his attention. Will wrenched his gaze away, landing to a small dirty terrier, barking for his attention towards her little of puppies taking shades in the shadow of a gravestone.

 

“Hannibal.” He whispered, frozen as a statue as the small dog came close to him and sniffed. For a moment she looked unsure, but then she looked up to him, sitting down almost politely as she wagged her tail, waiting to be pet. Will laughed and fell instantly to his knees, running his hand through her dirty coat.

 

“Hey there petty girl. Is that your puppies over there?” He asked, reaching towards the stumbling litter. The small yipping mound noticed the proffered hands and instantly bounded over to him, sniffing for treats and clamoring to be petted. The all had a smattering coat of white and black, unafraid of him and his wings for Will too had conquered his fear of them.

 

Alana’s car squealed in the distance, catching both men’s attention as it signaled her successful escape. “I’m sorry.” Will said, but he was only greeted by Hannibal’s beaming face.

 

“Shall we take her in?” He asked, more than happy to add more joy to his beloved’s life. Will nodded eagerly, rising up with an armful of wriggling puppies. “Yes! A meal, a bath, and a big doggy bed for them all! And then…” Will eyes glinted, eyeing Alana’s car in the distance, already no bigger than a drop of blood that will surely turn into a puddle. “Then we hunt.”

 

 

 

 

***

Epilogue

***

 

With Will by his side, Hannibal officially retired his old Ripper moniker, leaving Jack’s heart hanging over his office door, tried in butchers string that turned rigid and rusty red with blood. The FBI was in an uproar, and Will resigned, preferring to spend his free time from teaching with Hannibal and their increasing pack of dogs.

 

Alana remained missing to the public, though her death was satisfying for both Hannibal and Will, he meat never had the honor of gracing their table. After all, they have mouths to feed, and ground up human flesh makes for a great source of nutrition for growing puppies.

 

As years passed, their wings grew to full maturity. They were impossibly big, the ends dragging on the floor, much to the delight of their canine children. They love settling amongst it’s plush feathers as they’re dragged around the house by their oblivious owners.

 

With a pack, two wings, and two pairs of antlers constantly in each other’s way, they moved out of Baltimore and emigrated to Lithuania. The high ceiling and arched doorways of Hannibal’s ancestral home was more suited than the opulent house that they’ve outgrown.

 

They traveled around the world and experiencing the fullest scope of life through mortal means and with their own magnificent appendages. They two always leave their marks on the highest places in the world, black and white feathers felted together from the friction of their lovemaking.

 

Still, they always come home to Lithuania, comfortable amongst the tall towers and ancient forest. When he walked the grounds, sometimes old memory would come surging back to Hannibal’s mind, but he no longer feared the place, for Will was with him and the memories they’ve made together triumphed over the tragedy of the place.

 

Ages pass and wars were won and lost. Humanity progressed beyond themselves, only to have their greed drag them to a more primitive time. Hannibal and Will remained unchanged, immortal lords in a castle filled with the forgotten arts and achievements of men.

 

People call them the harbinger of death, for violence and blood awaits those who dared to trespass their land and invaded their people. Despite the violence, towns around the castle were never ravaged by famine or hunger, for the generous lords of Lecter Castle freely shares their bounties of meat. With their help the country prospered, continuing the cycle of human progress until it inevitably end again.

 

As time passed a legend rose, held true by the inhabitants around Lecter Castle even as other superstitions fell out of favor. If one needed deliverance from life, a plate of salt and cinnamon should be left outside their window. The gods would descend, granting a peaceful death and wreathing their worshiper’s corpse in a garland of Sweet Williams. None dared to try and use it on their enemies, for they know that making a fool of the gods would only bring their pain and misery.

 

Over the years the legend changed took their own form. People say the gods were a pair of husband and wife. Other says brothers, while some claim they were mortal enemies, one bringing death and the other restoring it.

 

Hannibal and Will just laughed at those silly superstitions. They do not care about the mutterings of lesser animals, nor do they fear the relentless march of time. They have each other’s forever, and that was more than enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you’re here I want to thank you for taking the time of finishing my story! 
> 
> Alrighty! Time for some Fun Fic Facts :D
> 
> \- This was originally supposed to be a smut fic that ended in five chapters, Somehow it ended up as a fluffy love story with 21 chapters???  
> \- Since the story took a heavy fantasy turn near the end, I decided to end the epilogue with a fairytale type of narration.  
> \- I try very hard not to use the word angel since it just seemed too on the nose and cheesy. (Like that never stopped me before, Ha!)  
> \- I got the idea of Freddie’s wings from a sashimi cutting technique where one scores horizontally on a parboiled fillet, and then cut diagonally across the grain, creating a fanned out effect from the cooked meat of the fish while the raw parts holds them together!  
> \- Also, the term Sashimi apparently literary means ‘cut body’, so I suppose by definition Hannibal is a sashimi master lmao  
> \- Most of Hannibal’s recipes and techniques was inspired from the book Larousse Gastronomique, which is also the book in the Red Dragon movie where Will realizes that Dr. Lecter was a serial killer.  
> \- Out of all the sculptures Hannibal showed Will, The Barberini Faun is my favorite because his curls reminded me of Will. Also he has his dick hanging out, which makes me think that he’s a cool dude to party with.  
> \- Mythologically Will and Hannibal doesn’t fit into traditional creatures tropes. They are immortal, and I suppose with their horns they seemed more like the devil? Idk man, if you let me continue this story I would probably give them mermaid tails or something.  
> \- In the original draft Will wasn’t suppose to waste away, but commit suicide by self immolation, turning his wings to leathery dragon wings. I wasn’t happy with it because it was too similar with Dollarhyde. Also with Hannibal’s receiving his wings, I decided to scrap that part because parallels are cool and I want Will to vocalize his feelings through his wings  
> \- Their puppies are named after cartoon characters, so Garfield, Mr. Peanut, Calvin, Snoopy, Hobbes, Ajax, etc! Hannibal restricts it to comics though, because he doesn’t appreciate Will naming their dog Mr. Poopybutthole from Rick and Morty.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I would like to apologise for the many spelling and grammatical mistakes I missed in the fic. I'm hoping to edit it all properly, but I hope that it's wasn’t so terrible that it took away from your enjoyment of the story. 
> 
> As always, your comments and kudos are very much appreciated <3 See you in the next fic!


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